


So Much Fade Gibberish

by delazeur, thecryoftheseagulls



Series: Logan Hawke - Fadewalk RPs [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Discussion of Chantry Boom, Doppelganger, Fade Shenanigans, Implied Hawke/Varric, M/M, Mage Rights or Mage Fights, Multiple Selves, Multiple Universes Colliding, Nightmares, Referenced Fenrs/Anders/Hawke, Roleplay Logs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5710474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delazeur/pseuds/delazeur, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecryoftheseagulls/pseuds/thecryoftheseagulls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after, Anders wakes up with night terrors in an unfamiliar part of Skyhold, and meets an older version of himself. Logan, meanwhile, waking to find Anders gone, goes looking for him and meets one Marian Hawke, who was trapped in the Fade after Adamant until she was drawn to this alternate version of Skyhold like everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anders and Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The original rp for this chapter can be found [here](https://fadewalk.dreamwidth.org/47456.html). The older version of Anders who makes an appearance might be recognizable as being from one of my other fics, [Reconcile](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2564072/chapters/5701910), though he comes from directly post-Chantry boom which is a point I haven't reached in that story. Reconcile!Anders was written by thecryoftheseagulls, and modern!Anders still written by delazeur. Hopefully the duplicates don't make it too confusing to keep track of which Anders is which.

It was cold and dark and there were fingers reaching and voices whispering _what'sthiswhat'sthiswhat'sthis_ and eyes he couldn't see in the dark. 

He was running. He was always running, pulling free of ropes, shoving past doors, trying to get away, farther farther until they couldn't catch, couldn't put him back in the box, couldn't make him less than he knew he was, not anymore. 

He was a pale ghost in the strange green light, running, bare feet slapping on the stone, eyes wide and pupils contracted so hard there was almost no way he could be seeing anything in the dim. Panting, sweating, stumbling down the covered colonnade between the guest wing and the gardens of Skyhold but only seeing a long hallway, dark, with waiting shadows in the doorways, in the windows, watching and whispering, wanting to catch.

\------

Anders had gathered a basket of food for himself and Fenris and then stepped out into the gardens to see if there was anything edible and also if perhaps he might find some elfroot. It seemed likely he would need some potions to hand out with half mad templars running amok and others being dragged or even running off through the eluvian. He wanted to be prepared. 

He had just knelt down in the dirt, basket set aside, to pluck some of the elfroot he had found when the sound of bare feet on stone echoed from the colonnade. Justice stirred in alarm, but Anders shushed him, reaching for his staff and regaining his feet.

\------

Anders ran face-first into a treebranch. Being slapped awake by a passel of leaves and twigs wasn't the worst way he'd ever woken up, but it wasn't pleasant, especially when he'd fallen asleep warm and tucked under Logan's chin and _safe_. It startled a shout out of him as he ducked, which rose higher in alarm when the offended tree branch burst into flames.

Anders landed on his ass, staring up at the burning foliage, trying desperately to calm the lashing magic inside him, wearing only his boxer-briefs and barefoot. "Bloody hell!" 

Not the worst wake-up but definitely one of the fucking strangest.

\------

Something about that voice stirred an inkling of recognition inside Anders, but it was quickly ignored in favor of acting. He strode towards the mostly naked new mage, any fear be might have felt gone as soon as he saw the other man's state of undress and the branch catch fire. He raised his staff just slightly, summoning a quick ice spell to douse the flames, and then crouched in front of the stranger.

"Maker's breath," he said gently, in the voice he used for particularly skittish children. "Are you all right?"

\------

The dousing of the flames above him set Anders blinking, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He started to scramble up when he realized there was someone else, another mage he guessed, in front of him, and then when he saw his face he sat right back down, staring, mouth open, working, no voice coming out. 

It was his face, more or less, older, more careworn, with a graven sadness around the eyes and mouth, and the hair was longer. But there was no lying about the nose, the color of the golden-brown eyes, or the shape of his lip. These were the parts of Anders' face that he liked well enough to be vain about, after all. "Holy fucking shit," he managed finally, hoarsely, and his panic spiked higher when his magic mimicked what the man in front of him had done, sending out a sudden burst of frost into the foliage around him.

\------

Anders froze when the man looked up and he got a good look at his face. "Andraste's lacy underthings," he breathed. So that was why the voice had sounded familiar; not enough to place, of course - he had always thought his voice was a touch deeper than this man's seemed to be, but then he supposed everyone thought that. This him was young, and more wildly out of control with his magic than Anders could ever remember being at that age (early 20s, perhaps?), but it was definitely him. He grinned widely. "Well, put me in a dress and call me a templar, and here I thought only the important folks like kings and champions and heroes got to have copies of themselves showing up. Does marvelous things for the ego, let me tell you."

The grin faded at the look of panic on his younger self's face followed by the burst of ice. "Hey, hey, easy," he murmured, shifting back to healer mode. He reached out to grip at the other Anders' shoulder gently. "It's all right, A-anders, you're safe." Maker, wasn't that odd, saying his name back at someone else.

\------

Anders was close to hyperventilating as the other... him?... spoke to him. He ran his hand up into his hair, making it stand wildly on end as he stared. The hand on his shoulder made him twitch, but it was also grounding. This was real. _He_ was real. He wasn't sure that made it better. 

Wait... had he? Andraste? He let out a high-pitched hysterical laugh. "Oh my god. You... you're me. But if I was from... there? The game. Thedas, in the fucking game, me? What?" He was trying, very hard not to let the magic do anything else, but the harder he tried to grip it, the more frantically he clutched for control, the twistier it got. Plus... where was Logan? Where was _he_? 

Still in the castle, it seemed, but he'd... he hadn't had a night terror bad enough to run in his sleep in a long time, he had medication (that he didn't have), and he'd thought with Logan there to hold on to it would be fine (it really wasn't).

\------

Anders furrowed his brow, trying to understand him. "Right. Yes. I'm from Thedas. The Anderfels, originally, though Ferelden, mostly. And you - you must not be. Interesting."

He recognized the panic in his own face, could feel the slippery edges of this Anders' magic ready to burst away from his control at any moment, and he dropped his staff to the ground beside him and reached out to grasp at Anders' other shoulder as well. "Can you breathe for me, Anders? Just breathe. You can let go of the magic; it will calm itself when you do." He glanced down briefly at his mostly naked state and added, kindly, "It was just a dream. No one's going to hurt you. They'd have to go through me and Justice, anyways. I can't be leaving my younger self indefensible, can I?" He offered a small, tentative smile, and squeezed his shoulders.

\------

"Breathe. Right." Anders knew this, he knew it, but it took him a minute to find the rhythm, the proper counts in and then out to calm his heartrate. He worried, but followed the other man's instructions, letting go of the magic and felt tears of relief pricking his eyes when it subsided almost immediately. He buried his face in his hands when the other-him brought up the dream, and he tried to remember what it had been, other than things chasing, watching, _wanting_. 

"Shit," he whispered. "Shit. This is so weird." He dragged his hands down his face and looked back up at Anders, and shook his head. "How... do you... what do I even say to that?" He gave a ragged laugh, half-hysterical and then went back to breathing in and out in slow, measured beats.

\------

Anders rubbed his thumbs along the other him's skin where his hands gripped his shoulders, struck again by the fucking weirdness of the whole situation, and resolving not to think about how he was sort of...petting...himself. Because that clearly wasn't going to help matters. When he seemed calm enough, Anders took his hands back and settled onto the ground, folding his hands in his lap.

"Weird is the word," he agreed. "You're obviously new here, though, so there is some explanation to be had. A very little, to be sure, but it will probably help. When you're ready, of course." His eyes went to the cut on the young man's cheek from the branch. "May I?" He offered a hand thrumming with healing magic, but made no move to heal him just yet.

\------

Once he was no longer actively freaking out (and yes, he'd admit he was still passively freaking out; a new baseline, wonderful) Anders tried not to be weird about taking comfort from the touch of the other man's hands on his shoulders. It was fine. He would have done the same for a stranger who was panicking. If it was only weird because it was _him_ then he really needed to adjust how he felt about self-care. 

"Right. New. I don't even know where here is?" He blinked at the hand Anders raised toward his face, and the energy that laced it, and what use he himself had recently put that exact energy to... his face flushed deep and suddenly red. "Oh, right, yeah." His hand touched the small cut lightly and then nodded, still blushing so badly it was down his chest.

\------

Anders arched a brow at the blushing and pressed a couple of fingers lightly to the cut to heal it. "There," he said as he pulled back. "Good as new." He pursed his lips, studying the other him for a moment, and then decided that it was probably better he not ask after the reasons for the blushing. Probably.

"Not that I'm the best person for explaining all of this," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not from the same time as most people here, and I don't fully understand all the context. Not that I'm..." he cleared his throat, "avoiding trying to understand, but - well, perhaps a little. I don't know that I like knowing things about the future."

He paused to halt his babbling and noticed anew the coolness of the air around them - this was supposed to be a mountain stronghold, even if it was curiously suspended in the not-Fade. He took off his black feathered coat, exposing the plain sleeved tunic underneath, black, with simple gold embroidery about the collar. It wasn't nearly as worn as his old clothes had been, because Hawke had paid for the entire outfit fairly recently. Before...all of this. He started to hold out the coat and then stopped, taking it back to untie the red cloth wrapped around one arm, then extended the coat again. "Here," he said, gently. He smoothed the red cloth tenderly with long fingers and cleared his throat.

"So. Here is Skyhold; it's usually a fortress up in the Frostbacks, so I'm told. But this one has been somehow dragged into the Fade? More or less. It's not the real Fade, exactly. We think it had to do with a shattered eluvian, which has since been repaired but still seems to be malfunctioning. There are people here from all sorts of times and places - myself and my Fenris, but my Fenris comes from several years before I do, and then there's my old Warden Commander from several years _after_ me, and several Hawkes, and several Alistairs, and also some strangers who seem to come from some other world entirely. They have a large metal ship which I'm told is designed for sailing in something called space? I've not interacted with those ones much so I don't know anything about them." He licked his lips. "Does any of that make sense? Maker I don't even know if you know what an eluvian is yet."

\------

Anders gave a grateful little shudder as the coat settled over his shoulders and he huddled down in it for a moment as he listened to Anders' explanation. "Eluvian's are a magic mirror thing. Elves, um a tainted one, kills a boy in one of the origins. Oh, hell, Mahariel?" He froze then, eyes widening. 

"Did you say _Hawkes_?" He barked out a soft laugh. "If you try to tell me there's more than one Logan Hawke here I'm actually going to die." How could he deal with that? How would Logan deal with that? "And Fenris. _Your_ Fenris?! That drunk prick?" Maybe later he'd revise his feelings about Fenris, once he'd reconciled the fact that Logan's late night private drunk chats with him maybe hadn't been a prelude to some sort of romance that Anders had ground his teeth bitterly about, but he hadn't grappled with that yet. "I know, I know, priorities, right? Like, starting with Magic is Real! But, god, _Fenris_??"

\------

Anders nodded. "Magic mirrors, yes. I don't know anything about Mahariel elves, though."

"Wait, Logan Hawke? I haven't heard of that one, no. Did he - she? come in when you did?" He looked thoughtful. "No, no doubles of a Logan Hawke. There are two Marian Hawkes, one who's a rogue and one who is a warrior, and then there's a man called Sparrow Hawke. The Hawke from my time is called Jicosa, but she hasn't been pulled here. There seem to be many iterations of Hawke. It's...rather peculiar." He gave the red silk in his fingers one final look, golden eyes sad and distant, and then tucked it in a pocket.

At the insult of Fenris, however, he growled, low in his throat, a noise that was a touch too deep to be his voice alone. Blue skittered up his skin and coalesced in his eyes. He shook his head violently and the blue cleared. "Not now, Justice, fuck," he grunted. He fixed his eyes back on himself with a frown. "But yes. _MY_ Fenris," he said, the word possessive and pointed. "Frequently drunk and often prickly, it's true. But mine."

\------

Anders held up his hands, scooting back a few inches at the glowy outburst and the clear indication that Fenris was off limits. "Sorry," he whispered, eyes wide. "Am I going to start doing that?" It didn't look... comfortable. 

He ran his fingers through his hair. "You know, because it turns out magic is real, and you always thought hey that would be fun, but then you set yourself on fire on accident and there are eyes in the dark in your dreams, which were never great to begin with. But _that_? I don't know how I would explain that at school." He laughed shakily.

\------

Anders ran his fingers through his hair in a very similar gesture as the one his younger self had just done, except for the longer strands of hair caught in his fingers. "Sorry," he mumbled, grimacing. "It's more difficult, here."

"You come from a land of no magic, then? I don't...understand how you can be me and that be the case. But no. No, you shouldn't start doing that." He sighed. "I am...I share my body with a Fade spirit, a spirit of Justice. He was trapped in our realm, in a decaying body, and he is my friend. I agreed to host him to save his life, and in return he has given me resolve and strength I did not know I had." He gives Anders a wry smile. "It was a choice, not something that will just happen to you."

\------

"Fade spirit, Justice, okay." Anders took a deep breath, absorbing that. "But that means that demons are a thing? Like I could get possessed by one of those here?" He shuddered thinking about the eyes in the dark of his dreams, the watching, whispering voices. "There was a spirit of um Courage in the Harrowing intro, or... no Valor. Right, but then there was Mouse and the big weird sloth bear." 

He wet his lips. He was starting to freak out again, his hands shaking. "I need to find Logan. He... he's alone, and he's a mage too, and if he doesn't know this stuff then..." 

His chest hitched, eyes wide as he looked up at Anders, and if he knows anything at all about how his face works it'll be easy to read his younger self's ardent _devotion_ to his Hawke.

\------

"Demons, yes, those are a thing. There's no reason to fear possession while you are awake; there don't seem to be any demons here to reach us. But we are returning to the usual Fade when we sleep, so we mages must be vigilant while we sleep, as ever."

"Mage Hawke," Anders murmured, distantly, wondering what that would have been like, had Cosa been born with powers like Bethany's. To have fallen for a fellow apostate, one who not only supported his fight for mage rights but directly benefited - it was a strange thought. He shook himself and focused back on the other Anders, reaching out to touch his shoulder again. "Peace, Anders. We will see to it your Hawke is safe. I can show you how to resist the demons."

\------

The touch startled him out of his thoughts and Anders looked up and nodded. "Okay. Thank you." His face twisted a little and then he shook it away. "Sorry, this is so much... I'm--" He blew out a stiff breath and then nodded. "Can we go to him now? If he didn't stop me when I started sleepwalking, then he might not know I'm gone." 

Or Anders had hurt him when he'd tried to stop him, and he suddenly felt like he was going to vomit, eyes darting up toward the scorched branch of the tree, color draining entirely from his face. "Or..." He scrambled to his feet.

\------

This Anders' concern for his Hawke made Anders' chest tighten painfully. It was obvious he was concerned about being away from him, and Anders could not help but think of Jicosa, of her empty fingers where his hand had been before he was drawn here. How much time had passed for her? Was Fenris with her still, or had the drawing forth of their Fenris from a few years ago left her completely alone? It was maddening. She'd spared his life, and he'd repaid her by vanishing and leaving her alone to be hunted for his actions.

"Of course. Of course we can. I would not like to leave my Hawke alone in such a vulnerable state either," he told him, ignoring the way his voice seemed to thicken and clump up in his throat. He followed the younger man's gaze to the tree and blanched. "And all my skills are at your service, of course." He wiggled the fingers he'd used to heal Anders' cheek.

\------

Anders nodded sightlessly at... Anders words and then looked around him, focusing slowly, before laughing, hoarse and helpless. "I have no idea where we are." He turned in one full circle, almost losing the coat off his shoulders, before sliding his arms into it. 

"We... he and I, were in a tavern. We got there from a rampart door. We were just exploring and that was where we ended... up." His eyes darted to Anders, and how weird was it to look directly into the other man's eyes? His age, and his experience made Anders think he should be looking up at him, like he was an actual adult. "Do you know where that is?"

\------

Anders got to his feet and dusted himself off, scooping his staff up off the ground. He offered the other him a hand up and then went to collect the basket of food he'd left over by the potted elfroot. 

"The tavern?" he asked as he returned to his side. "Yes, I know where that is. Had a few drinks there when I first arrived and we were all about ready to forget about the fuckery of this place. Come; it's not far." He motioned with his staff and led the way to the door into the castle itself.

\------

The walk didn't take long, Anders dogging his other self's heels. When they got the row of guest rooms he pushed past Anders and opened the door they'd been in, but it was empty. "He isn't here," he murmured. He turned around, looking a bit wild-eyed. There was no scorch marks, no blood, no sign of struggle, so at least he hadn't hurt him... probably... but where had he gone?

\------

Anders peeked into the room and hummed, eyeing the mussed bed thoughtfully. The room still smelt a bit of sex, and that only served to confirm his suspicion that the two of them were involved. He tapped his upper lip. It was perhaps gratifying to find a version of Hawke that was involved with himself; it made his own love for Cosa more...well, he didn't want to say fated, because with a Hawke involved only with Fenris and a Hawke in love with Varric of all people, fate seemed to have little to do with it. Still. The thought a version of himself could find happiness with another version of Hawke was rather beautiful. He was just blessed to have Fenris too.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and moved into the room, picking up a strange vest that had been tossed over a chair, but not seeing anything else in the room to indicate that this Hawke had been here, except some discarded towels and the unmade bed. 

"Most likely he has gone to look for you?" he suggested, turning round again.

\------

"God, Logan." Anders frowned at the vest. Of all the asinine things to leave... not his pants or his shoes. He snorted softly and then shook his head, expression becoming worried and pinched. "Probably," he murmured. "He didn't know about my... well." He shrugged uncomfortably. "First night together, and I didn't warn him. He probably thinks I bolted." 

He looked down at his skinny legs and bare feet protruding from under the coat. "I hope he thinks I have more sense than running mostly _naked_ , but it is me we're talking about." He sighed heavily, a weary lopsided smile on his face that would be perfectly at home on the older Anders' mouth.

\------

Anders hummed. "I doubt he thinks that. First time Hawke found me after I'd bolted in the night, I was already halfway back down to Darktown in my smalls and a nightshirt. Bloody miracle I wasn't knifed in the back by some shady Carta folks. But then, I suppose Justice probably would have roused and fended them off if that happened." He shrugged. "In any event the point is she was just worried _for_ me, not worried I'd bolted on her. If your Hawke is anything like the Hawkes I've met, and mine, he'll feel the same."

He looked around once more, then back to Anders with a small smile. "Good news is if he's awake, he's mostly safe. At least from demons."

\------

Well that was weirdly comforting. Anders chuckled quietly, and then nodded. "I hope so." Of course Logan seemed weirdly ready to believe that Anders couldn't be real, that he didn't deserve love maybe? They hadn't worked that out yet, and he _hoped_ he knew he hadn't _left_. "Maybe we should check the way we came into the tavern, that rampart? I don't know if he'd go that way or not, but we didn't see him coming up." He gestured toward the door that led out toward Cullen's tower.

\------

Anders gestured for his other self to take the lead. "By all means, perhaps we should retrace your steps thus far." He felt a little pleased, that old happiness whenever he helped someone, to see his assurances had eased this Anders' mind somewhat.

\------

With a nod, Anders turned and walked carefully toward the exterior door. He grimaced as he stepped over a patch on the boards. "Ugh. Sticky bar floor." His feet were going to be disgusting. 

He led them out onto the walls and looked around before heading toward the tower they'd come through before.


	2. Logan and Marian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan wakes up alone and goes to find Anders. 
> 
> Orignal rp for this chapter and the next is [here](https://fadewalk.dreamwidth.org/47947.html). Marian Hawke was written by delazeur and Logan Hawke still by thecryoftheseagulls.

At some point in all those hours of kissing (well, they might not have been hours, but they had certainly gone on for a while...), Logan must have dozed off, curled up with Anders in his arms. When he woke, he had no idea how much time had passed, because the light in the room was exactly the same. His mouth was dry, and Anders wasn't in his arms. He licked his lips and stretched an arm across the bed next to him and felt...nothing. The bed was empty. 

Logan sat up abruptly, immediately awake. "Anders?" he said quietly, voice hoarse with sleep and strained with alarm. Nothing. He pulled a palmful of fire into his hand to light up the room further. Anders' clothes were there, right where he'd left them, even his shoes and Logan's hoodie. The door to the room hung open about a foot. He went to the door and leaned out. "Anders?" he called again, louder this time, but there was no sign of him. "Shit. Shit, shit. Oh, shit." He paced back inside the room and dressed with shaking fingers, trying to think where Anders might have gone. Could he have been pulled back without Logan? They'd arrived separately; maybe they would be taken separately. The thought shot a burst of panic through him. He hadn't even asked Anders for his number, or his address, or anything. He'd meant to. Had wanted to say 'Tell me where you live, love. If you get dropped back home as quickly as we got here, I don't want to have to wait to find you again.' But he'd lost himself in the simple wonder of kissing Anders, holding him, and had forgotten to plan ahead. 

No. But the door had been open? If he'd just been taken back to their world, or...whatever, why was the door open? Logan gathered Anders' clothes in his arms automatically without paying attention to what he was doing and wandered back to the door, wondering if the tavern floor might be dusty enough to show where Anders might have gone. It wasn't. "Think. Think, Logan," he muttered, sidestepping tables to peer over the railing down into the tavern at large. Maybe Anders sleepwalked? That would make the most sense. But why hadn't it woken Logan - he was a deep sleeper from years of bunking in the same room as several other men at once, but he wasn't usually deep enough of a sleeper that a lover could completely disentangle themselves without him noticing. He paced. If Anders was sleepwalking there were all these stairs and battlements; there was no telling how he might hurt himself. Logan needed to find him. He hurried to the door they'd come in, thinking perhaps retracing their steps might be the best place to start.

\------

Hawke was restless. She wouldn't say bored. Spending a few days curled up with Varric, listening to him tell stories about hipsters and soap operas and kitten memes wasn't boring. But despite the fact that they'd been sleeping in the same bed since he reappeared, the likelihood they were going to cross that line seemed ever further away.

Still, a restless Hawke was a dangerous one, at least to property, sanity, and restful slumber of anyone within a mile radius, so she was out. Creeping. She was stiff and out of practice and her strength was coming back with rest and feeding, but she needed to get her muscles on board this program.

So... Creeping. The rooftops, mostly, eaves, gutters, climbing in and out of windows that she could reach. She had been at it for more than an hour and was currently scaling down the outside of the main keep tower from the library window that she'd had to wriggle to get through the casement of, and her arms were starting to shake. 

"Balls," she murmured. She managed to get a good toehold in the mortar, taking some of the pressure off so that she could turn her head and look down. Straight down didn't look so good. But if she got a little to the right she could make it onto the edge of the walkway that led from one of the guard towers (it had a hole in its roof and wasn't even worth the effort). "No dying, that's the rule, Marian," she murmured and began inching sideways. 

She was going to have to throw herself across the archway gap. No problem. Nope. Not even one. She steeled herself, wondering if she broke both her legs if Anders would heal them without telling the dwarf, and then swung herself that direction as hard as she could. 

She missed. 

Well not a full miss. More of a miss-ish sort of thump and scrabble, a squawk, catching the low wall in her gut and starting to slide. Someone was rushing toward her though, a dark-skinned young man carrying a bundle of clothes, something familiar in the eyes. "Oy! Give a girl a hand?" She slipped a little further and was hanging by her overtaxed fingers.

\------

Logan was so caught up in looking about for Anders, and only Anders, that he didn't catch sight of the darkhaired woman clinging to the side of the tower until she squawked after missing her jump. He started, noted her clinging barely to the edge of the wall, and dropped Anders' clothes to run over. He grabbed her by the forearms and heaved. "I've - got you," he grunted, a flash of surprise filling him when she was much heavier than she looked. He had just enough time to think she must be made of more muscle than he'd expected before he was tugging harder and then wrapping one muscled arm around her waist when he'd pulled her up far enough and helping her the rest of the way onto the walk.

"Jesus!" He exclaimed, panting slightly. "How did you get up there? Are you all right?" He peered at her, concern in his bright blue eyes.

\------

Hawke wasn't sure she'd ever seen anyone with precisely those color eyes before, the same color as hers, other than Carver. And he was gone. Long gone and never forgotten. Maker, he was as big as Carver too. Hawke gave him a gentle pat on the chest, reassuring, while her other hand checked the pockets of his strange... jeans. Varric had called them jeans... without even thinking about how weird it was to try to lift the valuables of someone who had just saved her life. 

"Oh, I'm fine," she answered with a smile. "I climbed out the window." She hooked a thumb behind her at the window that was a full further story up. She leaned back, looking him up and down. "So. You're not from around here, are you?"

\------

Logan caught her wrist as she pulled her hand out of his pocket. He might not have ever been that quick-fingered himself, but he knew the tells when someone was trying to take his shit. He'd been around enough blocks, been on his own enough. You learned things. 

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it wasn't polite to pickpocket people you've only just met?" One corner of his mouth tugged upwards, and he tsked. It was weird, strange women feeling around in his pockets would have normally put him on edge for more than one reason, but where there should have been tension or suspicion he only felt amused. He looked back at the window she indicated and arched a brow. "What are you, some kind of daredevil boulderer, or something?" 

He tilted his head, finally noticing her eye color as well, and that was fucking bizarre. There were a lot of blue eyes in the world, but it wasn't every day you saw one that was exactly the same vivid shade as your own. Even the shape of them seemed about the same as when he looked in the mirror. That was freaky. "Uh, no, not exactly," he answered, too distracted to give a better answer.

\------

Instead of looking angry that she'd been caught (out of practice, practically numb, overtaxed fingers weren't doing her any favors), Hawke looked delighted. Especially when he didn't seem angry when he made a joke about her mother. 

"Well she tried." Hawke's smile was a little bit sad, but Leandra was a dull, distant ache by now. Same as Carver. Turned out a body could get used to losing things if it happened often enough. "Never did stick though. Cat burglary is a hobby these days, but you never know when you'll need to make a dashing escape out of a tower window, have to get my climbing fingers back in shape." 

She took a step away from him and circled on slow silent feet, studying his clothes and strange shoes. Very similar to what Varric had worn back from his eluvian sojourn. She held out her hand as she came back to face him. "I'm Hawke." It seemed safe enough to introduce herself that way. If he wasn't from a world in which she was Champion, anyway.

\------

Logan chuckled. "Oh, of course. You never know." He tried not to let on that he'd caught the flash of sadness in her smile when she mentioned her mother; sometimes it was better to pretend his eyes weren't as keen as they really were, to spare people the kinds of questions they really didn't want to answer. 

He had to resist the urge to fidget as she circled him. It wasn't a predatory sort of circling, though it might have been, but it was still a little uncomfortable, the level of scrutiny she was giving him. 

"Um." He laughed a little at the coincidence. It _was_ a coincidence, right? He held out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Hawke. I'm, um. Also Hawke."

\------

Hawke's hand was warm and firm, a little rough from where her callouses were scraped by the stone of the tower, but despite the slender bones of her fingers, there was power there. And murder. When called for. Her eyebrows lifted and her grin split wider. "Well that explains the eyes then!" She squeezed his hand, a comforting press instead of a hard, intimidating grip, and tilted her head as she stretched up to inspect him a little closer.

"I haven't met another one of us yet, though Anders said there were a few. Are you the one in love with Fenris? Not the same Fenris Anders in love with, obviously."

\------

Logan was aware of the strength of her hand in his big one, which was good, he thought. He was much less likely to crush her hand in that case, something he tended to be overvigilant against doing. He squeezed her hand back a little more firmly than usual. 

"It - it does?" His brow furrowed in confusion. The mention of Anders brought his original mission and all his concern and panic rushing back to the forefront of his mind. His hand tightened on hers again, this time with a touch of desperation. "Wait, you've seen Anders? Oh, thank god. Where is he? He left without any of his clothes, I though he might be sleepwalking or something might have happened to him, or-" he ran his fingers through his short curls with a hand that was starting to shake, and then realized she was still talking. 

"Um. I don't..." He gave an unsteady laugh. "In love with Fenris? What the fuck. No. I'm not - no. Anders isn't in love with Fenris either. What are you - what."

\------

"Hey, woah there, kid." Hawke wasn't doing an impression of Varric, but there was something in her cadence that sounded like him when he was trying to keep her from going off half-cocked and stab happy. She put her hands on the big guy's shoulders, reaching up to do it. "Maybe sit down a second? I didn't realize exactly how new you were to all this." 

She tilted her head to side as she considered how to approach, blue eyes bright and birdlike. Her grasp of reality had been completely nil when she'd first arrived, the explanations sounding like so much Fade gibberish. What was real and what wasn't was giving her less trouble, and obviously she'd managed to step away from Varric's room long enough to get herself in trouble, but she still wasn't... completely together. 

"I'm Marian. You have a first name too that hardly anybody ever uses, I bet?"

\------

"I need to find Anders," Logan protested, now that he'd remembered his purpose. But she was giving him that calculated look like how best to calm him, a look Logan was pretty sure he wore himself regularly and he sighed. He still didn't know anything about where they were. Maybe it would be good to find out what he could? He bit his lip and tried to ignore the anxiety in his stomach that was little more than a steady chant of 'ANDERS ANDERS YOU NEED TO FIND ANDERS' and reluctantly settled for leaning against the wall instead of sitting down.

"Um, Logan. I'm Logan. But yeah, most people call me Hawke."

\------

"Okay, Logan. We absolutely are going to find Anders." Hawke let him go lean. That was probably good enough. As long as he didn't faint and hit his head. Herself, she'd never been much of a swooner... but he was pretty different. 

She grabbed up the clothes he'd dropped, and handed them over. Yeah she could see them fitting a skinny mage with too many feelings to have room for common sense. Of course they were clothes that plainly didn't belong in her world so he must be talking about a new Anders. "So, are you a... what did Varric call them... are you a hipster?"

She hopped up to sit cross-legged on the low wall opposite him, unperturbed entirely by the empty space and thirty foot drop to the lower courtyard behind her. She was right on the edge too.

\------

"Okay," Logan said, finding that he believed her. He took Anders' clothes back with a murmur of thanks.

"What?" He gave a startled laugh at the question, brows furrowing. "No? I'm not pretentious enough to be a hipster. I don't have the time to put into that kind of studied condescension. They're all 'ooh I will only drink out of glass mason jars, not water bottles like normal people' and 'I raise goats and have compost bins in my backyard because I care about the environment' and 'my weekends are all spent attending poetry slams.' I mean, really, who has time for that shit? Who? I've got enough with the three jobs I'm usually balancing at any given time."

He frowned, rubbed at the back of his neck. Of course he would go off on a rant about hipsters, of all things, when he was anxious, and really could be spending his time doing better things like finding his...his boyfriend. Oh. 

He squinted at Marian. "How do you even know what a hipster is? You look like you're..." he waved a hand at the castle around them. "From...Thedas, or...whatever."

\------

Hawke's grin could not get any wider. She had no idea what a compost bin was (Varric's tall tales must've missed certain aspects) and masons needed jars for what exactly? But her eyes were sparkling with humor by the time Logan ran down. 

"Varric told me," she answered simply, rocking a little on her perch. "So, here's the thing. We're sort of in the Fade. Not the scary Fade with demons and giant mountains to climb and all your fears chasing you like a boiling horde of horrible spiders wearing helpful nametags. It's Fade-adjacent?" She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to focus. She didn't need to freak him out about all that other shit, really.

"So there's this mirror, old elven junk, an eluvian that apparently exploded or... something. And it broke the walls between different versions of reality. A bunch of people wound up here. We're... echoes of each other in ways. Some of the echoes are really true, where the people look the same, sound the same, mostly have the same stories. Some of them are... sort of loosey goosey. You and me for example. I'm a Hawke, you're a Hawke." 

She narrowed her eyes to check to see if he was following, or if he was buying it. "My father was named Malcolm, my mother was named Leandra. Carver was my giant baby brother. Bethany is my sister. They were twins. Sound familiar?"

\------

Logan nodded as she spoke, the gears of his mind visibly turning behind his blue eyes. "Okay, eluvian, weird magic mirror thing, I remember that from the game. Different realities. Okay. I mean, that's like, many-worlds theory, isn't it? Which you are saying is real. Um." He sucked in a breath, muttered, "Give me a moment," and clutched at Anders' clothes a little tighter.

Finally he said, voice strained, "You would think that suddenly acquiring magic and being able to light shit on fire with my brain would be the weirdest part of all this, but nope. You realize we're living the proof of decades of theoretical discourse, right? That's - that's straight out of some science fiction, right there." 

He focused on the last part of what she had been saying. "That's my family," he said, highly skeptical. "So what...you're supposed to be...me...if I had been born white and a woman? And in some fantasy world. And liked dangling around off tall things. Okay, but no offense, aside from the fact that your eyes are like weirdly identical to mine, and your family has the same names, we don't seem to be that much alike?"

\------

Hawke let out a heavy sigh and shrugged her shoulders. "Look, I don't know how to explain it to you better. Do you want to meet my Varric?" She pursed her lips. "I assume you've got a Varric. Hawkes need one. Or there's an Anders who's already here. Is yours possessed?" she asked gamely, pushing off the wall. 

"Come on. Let's go take a walk, see if we can find your lover, and maybe bother someone who cares more about the intricacies of the whole thing." She held out a hand, beckoning Logan to come along.

\------

"Yes, I have a Varric; he's my best friend," Logan said, still sounding a little baffled. "I mean, if I'm understanding correctly, I'm not sure that there's more to explain? I'm just saying it's weird. And a little freaky. I. Hrm." He straightened and moved to follow, and then the possessed comment hit him. 

"Possessed? No? Or...he wasn't..." He nearly dropped the arm full of clothes. "Shit. That's a thing here, isn't it? For mages. Which we are now. That explains the weird dreams I was having..." It only took him a couple of quick strides to catch up to her and then he asked, anxiously, "You don't think he could have gotten possessed while we were sleeping, and that's where he disappeared to, do you?" He tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach when she called Anders his lover; he wasn't used to just telling random strangers about his love life, but he supposed that was what happened when you were running around with an armful of clothing claiming your boyfriend disappeared from your bed. She didn't seem to care, though? So that was...good.

\------

For some reason Hawke made this little _face_ when Logan called Varric his best friend. It wasn't a wince, or a smile, or a smirk. Her face just did things sometimes, apparently, and she'd have to be looking in the mirror to even describe it. Ignoring it and carrying on seemed like a very fine plan. 

"Right. No magic. Limits your avenues of possession." She sucked on her teeth as she opened the door into the rotunda and gave a little half-curtsey, graceful and precise, but somehow still ironic, as she ushered Logan through. 

Did she tell him the truth that it was possible and freak him out even though it was really unlikely? She shrugged. "Well, in my experience with Anders, he has night-terrors. He runs in his sleep. He almost fell down a cliff into the ocean one night when we were out killing slavers on the coast. So, if I were to guess, if you were having weird demony-dreams (and don't believe them if they offer to bring your da back from the dead, they're _liars_ ), he might've too, and run off without realizing what he was running from." 

The rotunda still smelled of smoke but it had the benefit of having char on the ground that showed footprints and she pointed out the plain mark of a skinny, long, bare foot with the tip of her toe. "Looks like him, hmm?"

\------

Logan wasn't sure what the look she'd just made was, or what it meant, but he automatically filed it away to think about later, like he usually did with the interesting things he observed from people. And then she did that curtsy and that was interesting too because it was so technically correct (he thought) but it also seemed very wrong when she did it. Dizzying, that's what it was, his brain tripping along and trying to figure out what made this Marian tick, all the ways she was different from and similar to himself. He shuffled the clothes in his arms to one side so he could reach up and rub his forehead, and wished, not for the first time, that he didn't think so damn much.

"Night-terrors," he repeated, wanting to smack himself for an insensitive idiot. Seriously, how had he not woken up? "He...didn't tell me about those."

"My dad's been dead a while now," he said, not sure why he felt the need to say that. He looked at the footprint when she indicated it, remembered Anders' legs wrapped around his waist, the shape of his foot rubbing up and down his calf. His cheeks darkened. "Yeah. Yep. That looks like him."

\------

Hawke gave Logan a squeeze on the arm, above the elbow, the kind of thing she would've done to Carver a hundred times, and gotten an elbow thrown at her tit about ninety-seven out of those hundred, a good comforting older-sister squeeze. She hadn't had anybody to mother in a while. 

"But, Bethany and your mum? They're alright?" She gave him a sidelong look. She wasn't sure how these less-tragedy-and-no-magic-Hawkes worked. She hoped for his sake that it was less tragedy anyway. There was a smudge on the step leading up into the library and she walked that direction with a little frown, her steps completely silent.

\------

Right. Being reverse-mothered by...a version of himself was decidedly surreal. Was this how his friends always felt when he was being a mother hen? It was kind of...nice...to have the tables turned. 

"Yeah, they're - they're good." He turned his head to look down at her. "You said 'were' twins. What happened to your Carver?" His voice was soft. For all his brother was an ass, the thought of losing him was...unthinkable. They'd always been the closest.

\------

On the landing Hawke's eyes were scanning for any additional smudgy sooty foot prints. If Anders had gone further up... she was worried because there were only doors to the rookery lookouts and long, cold, horrifying falls form up there. But no, that door to the mezzanine above the great hall was ajar and, yes, there was another smear of charcoal on the the stone. 

"I got him killed." Her voice was quiet, absent, a sadness that she had decided was long-ago and far away, but that she felt like a knot of scar tissue deep in her chest. An ache she was never going to not feel, she just forgot to notice it every once in a while. "Darkspawn were attacking Lothering, and I was trying to get them all out, and I looked away for a second and an ogre..." She shook her head. "It was a long time ago. It isn't important right now." 

She stepped out into the great hall, looking toward what should have been the choir balcony, but instead held Madame de Fer's books and settee and things. Hawke wrinkled her nose. Vivienne hadn't been her biggest fan.

\------

Logan said, "Oh," his voice soft. He remembered Lothering from the game. Strange to think real people had lived through that kind of horror, and stranger still to think of losing family to it. He touched her elbow this time, a simple press of his fingers rather than a squeeze, very aware of how much smaller she was even if she did seem to be made of pretty stern stuff. "I'm sorry," he said, letting go. He moved towards the - was that a fainting couch? right off the balcony so she didn't have to say anything back. 

"I feel like this would have a nice view if we weren't looking out into an abyss," he said, looking through the glass doors. The balcony overlooked the main courtyard, but he figured it would probably have a view of the horizon beyond the castle walls too, under normal circumstances. If...normal was the right word for a strange fantasy version of reality where he and apparently all his friends still existed.

\------

The comforting touch on her elbow made Hawke's breath catch just a touch in her chest. She gave him a soft look as he passed her, walked over toward the window, and then she glanced away. 

Hawke tried really hard, generally, not to look out into the abyss. The drop from the top of a tower to splat on a stone floor, sure... but the void was too real for her still. She shuddered and nodded, looking at Logan's profile instead. "The Frostbacks are pretty impressive as far as mountains go," she agreed. "Only the most dramatic backdrop of Vivienne's salons." She pronounced _salon_ with an overdone Orlesian accent and a smirk. 

"Okay, looks like your boy went out toward the garden and the guest wing, that direction." She pointed at another door, that led to the row of rooms that overlooked the garden. If they were lucky they'd find him curled up in an empty bed confused about how he got there. "So, you and Anders? What's that like?" Her lips twitched as she teased him.

\------

Logan looked back with a smirk and a raised eyebrow at the 'salon.' "That's the person whose stuff this is, I assume?" He gestured at the various furnishings and hummed. They were pretty fancy digs, he had to admit. Especially considering they were set up on what was probably a fairly public balcony under normal circumstances. Curious.

He moved towards the door she had indicated with renewed focus, which only wavered at her question. "Um." _Don't panic_ , he told himself. _It's perfectly normal to talk about your relationships. If you can't even tell yourself about you and Anders, how do you ever expect to come out with it to anyone else?_ "It's...kind of a new development?" He managed weakly. He kept his eyes on where he was walking.

\------

Hawke's nostrils flared a little when Logan seemed ashamed of Anders, eyes narrowing as she trailed behind him on silent feet. She didn't know his Anders, didn't know him, but it was _Anders_ and she'd always felt protective of his obsessive idiot heart. 

She considered kicking the back of Logan's heel as he walked in order to make his feet tangle together. She definitely would've done that to Carver in the same situation. Maker, Anders would've driven Carver up the wall. And now she just felt sad. 

"New, huh?" She rolled her shoulders, trying to get her hackles to quit it with the rising. "Well, maybe there's different scales for that sort of thing. Naked-new is different than new-new."

\------

Logan flinched a little at the tone of her voice, clutching his armful of clothing and shoes closer to his chest. Was she...irritated? Judgy? It kind of hurt, actually. It wasn't like she was his family, but she was a Hawke, and if even she was going to disapprove of his relationship, he didn't like to think about what Leandra would say. Or Carver. Bethany would probably be okay.

"Probably," he agreed, more defensively than he meant to. "Any way you slice it, though, we qualify as new. We've known each other a long time, sure, but first face-to-face meeting would have been a big deal even if it didn't end up with us...yeah." He cleared his throat. "It's new. I'm a little leery of going home actually, like that might make it not real again. I don't know if...if I can handle it if this is all just some really elaborate dream that my brain is tormenting me with. That would be..." he shook his head, risked a glance at her.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," he mumbled. "I don't talk about this kind of stuff. I'm not good at it."

\------

There were different kind of defensive postures, from an emotional, as well as a physical standpoint, and Hawke was pretty good at judging them. Rogues had to be, to exploit the weaknesses of people they were fighting, conning, robbing, whatever. She listened to him, watched his posture, and hummed. The poor puppy wasn't ashamed of Anders. He was worried the world expected him to be. She was looking thoughtful, sympathetic even, when he looked back at her. 

His final comment, though, made her laugh, a high, pained sound. "Maker bless your adorable little heart, Logan Hawke. Of course you're not." She drew abreast of him and hooked her arm through his. "So, here's my advice with Anders... kittens, soft things, lots of cookies. Do you knit? Scarves. The more ridiculous the colors, the fluffier, the better. He's going to look appalled but he'll love them." She looked up at him, smiling. "I mean, unless you don't really need the advice? You've already had your fun..." 

She trailed off, watching him with an Isabela-caliber quirked eyebrow, smirk _dirty_ , but she was really ready to spill him ass-over-tea-kettle with a tangling foot if he acted gross and leery.

\------

"I knit a little," Logan muttered, like he wasn't sure he should be admitting that. "There was this one lady I worked for, and...well. Not much to be done after dark and the chores are all done, when you're living way out in the middle of nowhere with minimal power and no TV." 

He tripped over his feet entirely on his own at the weird comment and the smirk. "It's not like that!" he protested, indignant, as he righted himself. "I don't...do that. Casual sex with no feelings. Thing." He huffed. 

"I _love_ him." He froze when that came out, breath catching in his throat. Then he nodded, once, and said it again, softer. "I love him."

\------

"Feels good to say it out loud?" Hawke felt a pang of envy that he could admit it, that it was, if she knew anything about the texture of Anders' affections, reciprocated. She gave his arm a tight-tight hug as she steered him down the hallway and through a door that overlooked the garden. "I mean, to someone other than him. I assume you probably drooled it _all_ over his face." 

She grinned up at him, cheeky, eyes bright. 

Maker, she wished she could give all her friends a remotely happy ending. She hoped Anders, wherever he was hiding back in her world, was safe and warm, that Fenris wasn't so busy starting shit in Tevinter it turned him into a target, that Merrill was staying safe. Isabela had been _here_ but gone missing again, and she couldn't think about that too hard... Fuck. She looked away, abruptly, hiding the tears that stung her eyes.

\------

"I wouldn't call it drooling," he said, weakly, giving her a wavery sort of grin. He had - gone ahead and said it. Holy shit. It was curiously freeing and also terrifying and also elating and...wow. He was suddenly glad for her arm wrapped tight around his. 

"Hey," he said softly, when her face crumpled and she turned away. He nudged her. "It's okay." He wasn't sure what she was upset about, because he really didn't know anything about her life, and it seemed really inadequate to just say 'it's okay' but he also didn't have anything better to comfort her with. He wrinkled his nose, unhappy with his own ineptitude.

\------

Hawke blinked a few times to get the tears out and then shrugged. "It's not, but I'm used to that," she allowed, managing to sound cheerful. 

She turned them down the steps that led into the garden and then frowned, head canted as she looked at a scorched tree and a patch of grass that still sparkled with ice on the ground underneath it. "Well. That's something." She let go of Logan's arm to step lightly over there, found the bare foot prints in the frost and also a set of boot prints. 

She started to giggle.

\------

Logan watched her for a moment before he said, "Well. You're a Hawke, right? If there's anything we're good at it's turning shitty things into less shitty things with a little bit of elbow grease. It'll be all right. I have faith."

When they reached the garden he studied the remnants of magic with growing concern. "This magic shit is new. We don't have magic in our reality, but somehow when we got here we did. I don't know how well he is able to control it." He didn't notice the second footprints yet, too busy looking at the tree, so when she started giggling he turned to her in confusion. "What is it?"

\------

Hawke didn't respond to the pep-talk, partially because it was adorable and actually managed to make her feel a little bit better (weird), but mostly because if he had that level of optimism about what it meant to be Hawke, she wasn't going to take it from him. Less shitty? When had that ever happened.

But the footprints were good. One was the long barefeet of Logan's Anders, and the other. She crouched and pointed at the left heel print, where it was rounded instead of squared in one spot. "He's got a creaky knee. Keeps it wrapped for support, but he rolls his foot the tiniest bit and the shoe wears unevenly." She looked up at Logan with a pleased smile. "He's going to be fine, Logan. Anders found Anders."

She shook her head slightly, just a tiny jiggle and then rolled her eyes, before whispering, "Fine, yes, it is pretty poetic symmetry. Hawke finds Hawke, Anders finds Anders. We're all really impressed by how clever that is."

\------

Logan crouched beside her so she could study the prints as she pointed them out. "Wow," he said. "You're really good at this. It's been a long time since I knew anyone who could track like that." He pursed his lips and tried to remember what she'd said before. "That's the...Anders you mentioned earlier? The one with...a Fenris?" He shook his head at the weirdness of the thought. His Anders basically hated Fenris. It was a shame, knowing what he now did about Anders' past. They'd both been through a lot of shit, Anders with his father, Fenris with his sister and that asshole foster father of his, Danarius. They were really very similar. 

He laughed at her other comment, a quiet sound that still managed to sound like it was booming out of his chest. "That is weirdly poetic," he agreed, his shoulders loosening in relief. If Marian thought Anders was going to be safe with this other Anders, well. Who was he to argue?

\------

Hawke preened a little at the praise, grinning and shrugging her shoulders. "You pick up a thing or two about foot prints and blood spatter in Darktown." She pushed up, lips twisting into a bemused smile. "Yeah, and a Hawke apparently, though she's not here. I don't even know how that works." The grin was back. "Well, I mean, I know how it _works_." She waggled her eyebrows before turning back to the task at hand. 

She scanned the path of the footsteps and led Logan back toward the main courtyard. "Just that they both always struck me as the jealous type, and that they're all three of them together?" She shrugged helplessly, expression confused.

\------

Logan had straightened and paused midstep, his foot hanging uselessly in the air, at _that_. " _And_ a Hawke? You're pulling my leg, right? That is...wow. Holy shit." 

He followed after her, expression baffled, and tried to sort out this revelation in his head. "Okay, well Anders and Fenris _are_ really quite alike once you get past surface prickliness, which admittedly my Anders and my Fenris have yet to do. I like Fenris, I do, as a friend, but I never had any interest in him like that. And also, yeah, the jealousy thing. God, I can't imagine Anders ever wanting to share me. I wouldn't ever want to share him, either. That's - huh. That must have taken some doing."

\------

"That's pretty much exactly what I thought when Anders told me about his situation. I mean, aside from the me-sharing thing. They can go to town on each other, but usually that means strangling not... well..." She made a face and flapped a hand. "Actually, ew." 

Hawke huffed as they came out into the great hall and then looked around perpelexed. "Okay, I'm out of soot and grass to scuff and frost to track through. But, I would venture a guess that if they decided to look for you, they'd just go back to where he left you?" She turned to look up at Logan, hands settling on her hips and smile wide. "Where were you bunked?"

\------

"Yeah...ew..." Logan echoed, thinking about adding Fenris into the equation with him and Anders and deciding he was better off not thinking about it at all. It brought out strange sorts of possessive urges in him.

"Um. We were in a tavern?" He offered. "We were just...exploring...and there were beds, so." He rubbed at the back of his neck and tried not to blush.

\------

"Mm hmm." Hawke's eyes were doing that sparkly thing again as she smirked with amusement. He was really easy to like, this Logan. Improbably young, maybe. Maker had she ever been that green? And the blushing, that was pretty cute too. 

She hooked her arm through his and turned him toward the doors at the far end, actually strong enough to shift him despite the differences in their size, and set off walking with a bounce in her step. "So, it's good he ran into Anders. If anyone is going to be able to help you both figure out how to do magic all of a sudden without burning anything down or summoning demons, it'll be him." She patted his arm. 

"And there's been some, as Varric would say, 'weird shit' going on with a Templar who just showed up, that probably shouldn't concern you, but if any insane woman with blond hair and demands you 'submit yourself to her charge' maybe just run and come find me?"

\------

Logan made a face at her when she gave him that knowing look. She was like a snarky version of Bethany, if Bethany had been older than him instead of younger. It was fucking weird. And also kind of nice? He'd always wanted an older sibling. He let himself be steered along, marveling once more at how strong she seemed to be. 

He shook his head. "Fucking templars," he muttered. "Blonde hair, insane - god, she sounds like that one asshole npc, the one that was worse than Cullen. Uhm. Meredith? Was it Meredith? Yeah, I think so."

\------

The first bit of Logan's response drew an amused snort form Hawke. Indeed, fucking Templars. The second part though she paused, looking up at him curiously. "I don't know what an enpeecee is? And how do you know Cullen? Or the name Meredith? Now _I'm_ confused. Because if there isn't magic, you shouldn't have Templars, but you know the names of the Knight-Commander of the Gallows and her erstwhile Knight-Captain, who's now the leader of the Inquisition's forces and all around professional stick-in-the-mud." 

She'd come to a halt just before the doors as she grimaced. "This is about to get even more confusing isn't it? You know what? Let's wait on it until we've found your Anders, and we can all learn together, hmm?"

\------

Logan took a deep breath. "I--" and then she grimaced. "Well," he amended, "That's a good idea. I don't even know how to begin explaining MMOs to you anyways. It would be helpful to have Anders' input there."

\------

"Oh, he usually does have _opinions_ , doesn't he?" Hawke pushed opened the door and led Logan out and down the stairs, crossing the weirdly still courtyard in the greenish light toward the tavern.

\------

"Er - yes?" Logan shortened his strides just a bit to keep pace with her as they walked. He wasn't entirely sure what her point was. Anders had opinions. They all had opinions. Anders just was maybe a little bit more vocal about them than some. "It adds to his charm." He didn't realize that he'd said that part out loud until she looked at him. He cleared his throat and shrugged, smiling faintly.

\------

Hawke grinned, eyes merry when Logan defended Anders. Good. She wasn't sure why she was so invested in making sure that Anders, an Anders she hadn't even met, wasn't getting some shit-bag Hawke who would stomp on his heart and not support him. 

Maybe it had something to do with how she'd given up on anything ever being real again, so all these people and stories seemed equally plausible? Maybe it was because despite how she'd given up on her own future ever having more to it than a dwarf who didn't go for humans being her best friend and bedmate but not in the sexy way? Maybe she was just twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag? 

She opened the door to the Herald's Rest and let him proceed her in, eyes scanning the courtyard behind them watchfully and then moving inside to look around, peering into shadowy corners and nooks. "Hmm. I wonder if there's any decent whisky left..." She derailed herself entirely to wander over toward the bar, that or she already knew people were upstairs. She got out four cups.

\------

Logan wrinkled his nose at the entirely too-smug twinkle she got in her eyes. Ornery. Good lord, was he that much of a gently teasing, overly invested friend? He probably was. Odd, how little the thought bothered him. He snuck a second glance at her when her expression changed to a slightly brooding one, and wondered again what bothered her. He could probably do something about it, if he knew what it was. She was sort of him, wasn't she?

...He was definitely an interfering busybody. 

He cleared his throat loudly and looked around. "We were upstairs, third floor," he said, peering upwards. Perhaps he should go up and look around again, just to be safe. He didn't notice the four cups she had pulled out yet.

\------

Hawke set out the cups along the bar and started rummaging for booze. She wasn't quiet about the clanking of the bottles in the slightest, and had started whistling a terrible song that got sang a lot in the Hanged Man that was some raunchy pirate shanty that Isabela had taught everyone who would listen over the years.

She half disappeared into a cabinet that was built too shallow to _not_ have a false wall or a cache behind it, and gave a squawk as she almost fell on her head into the lower section. But she emerged, triumphant, with two really dusty bottles and cobwebs in her hair. "Now..." She gave a sharper whistle with a curled tongue, a signal that carried all the way up to the rafters.


	3. Hawkes and Anderses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and his Anders are reunited. 
> 
> This chapter is continued from the same roleplay as last chapter. Again, Logan and older Anders written by thecryoftheseagulls, and Marian and younger Anders written by delazeur.

The other Anders had already disappeared out the door onto the walk when Anders heard voices echoing up from the main floor of the tavern. Hawke's voice, definitely, and a quieter male voice in response, one that seemed rather deep. He poked his head out the door and called, "Hang on a moment, Anders," before disappearing back inside and heading over to the rail to take a look. 

The man whose voice he assumed he'd heard was standing in the middle of the room, staring upwards, a bundle of something in his arms, and then Hawke's singing and whistling got louder and Anders shook his head with a grin. He looked over his shoulder towards the door and his younger self. "Well, that's a Hawke singing - SHE'S HARDLY SUBTLE - and I'm betting that's your Hawke down there too. Shall we?" He leaned over the rail to yell that middle bit, smirking, and then gestured at the stairs.

\------

Anders had paused, come back to the doorway, but he was shifting, antsy, really worried about Logan. He frowned at Anders' back as he leaned over the railing, too far into the doorway to hear whatever he was doing, until the loud shrill whistle came up, and Anders shouting down, and the important part was Anders thought _Logan_ was down there. 

"What?" He blinked, startling out of his brooding, and went pelting back toward the stairs coat flapping open as he ran. He tripped down the stairs, stumbling a bit at the corner of the landing, and then found himself standing at the bottom of the steps with Anders' black coat hanging half-off his shoulder, bare-chested, and slightly out of breath.

\------

Logan was giving Marian an amused look at her bedraggled and be-cobwebbed appearance, all set with a quip on the tip of his tongue when she whistled, sharp and loud, and then Anders' voice (except more worn, somehow?) was shouting down. He craned his neck back to look up at the third story again, heard the clattering sound of someone rapidly descending the stairs, and he was already moving towards them before Anders even reached the bottom. 

And then his Anders was there, naked save for his boxers and a strange feathered coat half falling off, and Logan reached for him, one hand gripped at his waist, the other at his cheek, breathed his name, and kissed him, hard.

\------

Hawke shook her head, smirking as she poured four glasses of the amber liquid and then corked the bottle, glancing up from under her brows at the two young men as they kissed like they'd been separated for months, instead of less than an hour. She blinked once at the black coat, a shiver going down her spine, as if it were some kind of... ill omen. 

She shook her head and looked up to the stairwell where Anders, coatless, but otherwise recognizable as the man she knew descended. "Well, it was a hard twenty minutes work, but the we fought hard and walked in one big circle, and once more true love conquers all obstacles." She pulled herself up to sit on the bar and held a cup out toward her Anders-- well not _her_ Anders, but more hers than the skinny-ankled stranger with his tongue in Logan's mouth.

\------

Anders followed his younger self down the stairs more sedately and then sidestepped the couple and headed for Marian. He slid onto a stool beside her and accepted the cup. "Thank you. Oh, remind me to burn that bloody coat when the young one gives it back, hm? I'm sick of seeing it." He pushed the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows and took a long swallow.

Going back to studying Anders and Logan Hawke, he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Adorable," he said, voice dry but sincere. If entirely bizarre. At least the Marians had sort of looked like darker haired versions of Cosa. Logan? If they hadn't called him Hawke, Anders wouldn't have seen the resemblance at all.

\------

When Logan had been waiting there at the bottom of the steps and then just grabbed him, Anders had nearly burst into tears of relief. He wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him back, long and hard, and yes, maybe with an inappropriate swipe of his tongue, given the audience. But he didn't care. 

He broke the kiss after a moment, forehead resting against the curve of Logan's brow. "Thank god. Are you okay, Logan?" He shifted back, trying to see if Logan was hurt, if Anders had hurt him in his sleep. He didn't know what he'd do if he had, if there were burns or nail marks on Logan's body. Well, first he'd get Anders to heal him, because plainly he couldn't be trusted, and then he'd probably dig a hole and go die in it.

\------

Logan rubbed Anders' back gently and breathed in his scent, relief flooding him. There wasn't a lot of skin to be seen when Anders pulled back, since Logan had put his hoodie back on. "Me?" He gave a choked-back laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm okay. Are you okay? There was some fire and ice in the gardens, and Marian said something about you having night terrors, and god, Anders, are you okay? I was really worried."

He let his gaze drift down Anders' body. He seemed okay, if a little grubby and very naked. Which, shit. His clothes. The clothes Logan had dropped on the dirty tavern floor at the first sight of him. "Uhm." He took a step back and bent to gather them up again. "Sorry, I went to look for you, and I figured you'd need these, so I took them with me, and jesus, you're probably freezing, here." He pressed them into Anders' hands, reaching up to cup his cheek again gently.

\------

Hawke took a sip of her drink and pursed her lips as Anders mentioned the coat. "Yeah. Just... don't let him keep it, whatever you do with it, okay?" She reached out and squeezed his shoulder with her strong, nimble fingers, trying to take the sting out of the acknowledgement that the coat was... bad. 

She twitched when Logan called her Marian, and she turned her head with a soft hmph. "Twenty sovereigns says he won't call me Hawke no matter what I say," she murmured. Louder she called, "Boys, come drink with us so we can marvel at how old you make us feel, alright?"

\------

Anders sighed. "Fenris grabbed ahold of it the other day and I about had a fit seeing those black feathers in his lovely fingers. I won't - you know I won't take back what I did, but I would like - I don't know what I would like. Not to be reminded every moment I'm awake, as well, I suppose. Selfish." He shook his head. 

He raised a brow and chuckled at her. "Well, if he's a Hawke, it has to be a bit weird, from his perspective, right? Don't worry sweetheart, I'll keep on with 'Hawke', just for you, all right?"

\------

Anders shook his head, trying to deflect Logan's concern. "Fine, I'm-- Marian?" He flicked his gaze over to the bar, the dark-haired woman and the other him drinking together, sitting together like old friends, her with a hand on his shoulder and her tumbler in her hand. She had Logan's eyes. Sort of. "Oh. _Weird_." He turned back as Logan pressed the clothes at him, flushing darkly. 

"I'm so sorry. Normally I take medication and I didn't think it would be a big deal because I was so worn out and... I should have known better and warned you." He looked down at this clothing and then shook his head. "I was really worried I'd hurt you," he whispered. 

He started wriggling into his trousers at Marian's summons, shaking his head. "As long as you're okay," he reminded himself as he buttoned the waist and then shucked out of Anders' heavy, weird, jingly feathered coat.

\------

Logan followed Anders' gaze to the pair at the bar and did a double take at the older version of Anders sitting there, smiling indulgently at them. A Hawke who wasn't exactly like him was freaky enough, but that Anders was...pretty near identical. "Yeah, fucking weird," he muttered. 

He stepped between his Anders and the other two versions of themselves as Anders started to get dressed, a possessive surge of warmth in his chest. It was probably silly, wanting to shield him from their watching eyes, but he did it anyways, at least as much as he could with just his body to use as a block. It helped that he was big and Anders was so scrawny.

"It's okay, love," he said softly. "We weren't thinking that far ahead. I didn't even really mean to fall asleep. And I certainly don't usually sleep that deep that you could get up without me noticing." He let himself reach out to touch Anders' cheek again, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. "I'm all right," he repeated. "I was worried about _you_ , first that you'd gone back without me and then that you might hurt yourself, sleepwalking around with all these stairs and battlements and everything. I'm really glad you're safe."

\------

"Oh Maker, they're precious. I think I'm going to be sick." Hawke took another long drink from her liquor as Logan moved to provide a broad, muscular screen for Anders. She wasn't ogling, she wasn't Isabela, after all, but there was curiosity in her gaze and more than a little worry. She had seen the edges of the lash stripes on his back just before Logan cut off her view, and in a world without magic, without Templars, she wondered who would do that to him. 

She squeezed Anders shoulder again, trying to still the part of her brain that was immediately thinking up eight different ways to make whoever had done that suffer, breathing through the hot-tingle in her scalp. 

In order to distract herself she looked down at the Anders sitting beside her and mused, "So, you seem a little more rested. I wonder why that would be."

\------

"Mm." Anders was ogling, but not himself; he'd seen enough of the younger him's body earlier to know it pretty much looked like his own, down to the scars, although admittedly he hadn't been that thin until being several years older than this Anders was, when he was living on his own in Darktown. No, he was eyeing the well muscled back of this new Hawke with keen interest. "I have excellent taste," he murmured appreciatively, sipping at his drink, glad once again that Justice's distraction in this place meant he was free to imbibe as much as he wanted.

...if not entirely free of Justice's indignant muttering about how Fenris was equally well fit, if less...big. Anders wrinkled his nose and muttered, very softly, "Yes, yes, dear, I know how you feel about the elf. Maker, I know he's your favorite. Hush."

He shook himself and gave Marian an amused look over his shoulder. "There wasn't any caboodling, if that's what you're asking, you great busybody. We haven't reached that point where he's from."

\------

Anders was bloody grateful for Logan's body interposed. He could tell they were watching the two of them, and it was an uncomfortable sensation since this Marian and the other Anders just knew more about everything than he and Logan did. He tugged the shirt on, and then the cardigan over it, grateful for the warmth, but looking a little longingly at Logan's hoodie. Oh well, the sweater would never make it across his shoulders, so it wasn't fair to wheedle the sweatshirt out of him now that his own clothes were dry. 

"Safe. Well, that's true. I did get attacked by a tree, which I very valiantly defended myself with fire and trying to burn it down on top of me, but he--" he chucked his chin toward Anders at the bar, "--did something with an ice spell that stopped it. And then I tried to freeze myself to the grass, but you know how it goes. All in a days work for the world's most incompetent mage." He smirked, still feeling shaky and uncertain, especially with the dreams weighing on his mind, the eyes that were watching, the whispers that wanted. 

He grimaced at the state of his feet but stuffed them into the shoes anyway, and when he straightened he picked up Anders' coat and carried it back over toward the bar.

\------

Logan gnawed on his bottom lip, watching Anders' jerky movements, how uncomfortable he seemed, the self-deprecating jokes to cover it up. He stepped a little closer so he could say, in an undertone, "You didn't seem very incompetent last night, love." He offered a small smile, trying to cheer him, although he could feel his cheeks suffusing with warmth as soon as he spoke. 

When Anders headed for the bar, he trailed after him, pondering the look Anders had given his sweater which he had obviously not meant for Logan to notice. He took Anders by the elbow to stop him before they could quite reach the other Hawke and Anders. "Hang on, darlin'. Here." He pulled the hoodie off over his head and held it out and then said, to forestall any objections, "You might have noticed I run a little hot." 

This did, of course, reveal the 'I'm Hawke' t-shirt again, and Logan glanced at Marian awkwardly as he reached down to straighten his hem.

\------

Hawke had flicked the back of Anders ear lightly when he sounded so appreciative of Logan's... assets, laughing even as she did it. Well, at least Justice had some sense of decency, if Anders' muttering was anything to go by. 

"No caboodling at all? That's disappointing. I was hoping _somebody_ was making use of all the downtime. Aside from these two, anyway." Her eyes were sparkling as they approached, watched younger-Anders blush a deep scarlet as he tugged Logan's weird hooded tunic thing over his head, though he looked deeply pleased despite the blushing. 

She tilted her head as she studied Logan's shirt, Varric had called those... t-shirt? She didn't know what the T stood for, but she took his word for it. "Is that something you need to advertise where you come from?" She gestured toward the glasses that sat untouched for the two younger men. "Seems like an excellent way to get bricks thrown at your head, if you ask me."

\------

"Ouch," Anders said without inflection or any real hint of pain at the flick. He turned his gaze from the two men to look at Hawke, shrugging one shoulder. "Well, there was cuddling, if it's any consolation. And then I had to go and ruin it with the nightmares. So." He looked down into his glass with a frown and took a large gulp. "What do you know, they're worse than usual these days. Surprise." He hunched in on himself, shoulders bowing, and went back to watching as Logan looked highly embarrassed and folded his bulging biceps across his broad chest, partially hiding the letters on his shirt. 

What was it with Hawkes and their absurdly muscled arms, anyways? Maker, he missed Cosa. She would know just what jokes to make to put Fenris at ease, to stop Anders and all his shit from freaking Fenris out too much. He glanced idly between Marian and Logan and tried to distract himself from his wallowing by wondering which Hawke would win in an arm wrestling contest. For all Logan looked amazing, he still bet Jicosa could best him - she _was_ the warrior of the three.

\------

The byplay and banter between the other Anders and Marian was sort of cute... he supposed. He felt a little strange about the considering gaze that Anders was giving Logan's arms though. And Marian's comment about the shirt? 

"What? No, no one is throwing bricks at _Logan_. Jesus." He sounded affronted at the very idea. "The shirts a joke. Varric gave everyone in the guild ones that said, 'if lost return to Hawke' and it's a great sleep-shirt, and..." He blushed a bit more brightly as he realized he'd just admitted to using Varric's gift as pajamas. 

He hustled toward the offered drink and grabbed it, taking a big gulp that made him wheeze and his eyes water.

\------

Logan tried to make it look like he wasn't hugging himself around the middle like an awkward child, and then his Anders was defending him indignantly, and he relaxed. The grateful look he shot his boyfriend lasted just a little too long, wonder and affection mixing behind his blue eyes until he finally looked away, a small smile on his face. 

"Yeah, it's a - it's supposed to be a joke," he said. "It's a comfortable shirt. I pretty much only wear it around the house, which is where I was before I got...pulled here." He went and stood beside Anders, wedging a hip against the bar and picking up the last drink. He wrapped his free arm around Anders' waist, and then moved it up to rub Anders' back when he started wheezing.

\------

Hawke was honestly two sweet smiles and a hand on the back of one of their necks before she was going to start squealing or awwing or gagging at how cute they were. It made her a little sad too. She'd never had trouble with casual, affectionate touching with her friends, but Justice had made it clear her squeezing Anders freaked the spirit out, and things were weird with Varric. 

She pulled her knees up to ward her chest and hugged them where she sat on the bar, smirking as she listened to the explanation about the shirt, her eyes slowly lighting up. "We are absolutely getting a set of those." She snickered. "I will wrestle Aveline myself to get her in it!"

\------

Anders watched the two of them making bedroom eyes at each other with barely disguised yearning. Maker, when had it been like that with he and Hawke, or he and Fenris? Had it ever been so easy, casual touches and obvious adoration, all that affection just spilling out thoughtlessly? He didn't think it had. He and Fenris had been a secret for so long, and even when it was all three of them, he'd still wondered if both of them didn't just prefer each other and...tolerate...his being in the equation. No...he hadn't been convinced that they both loved him, _him_ , too, until after the Chantry, and there hadn't been time, after, to learn this kind of freely given affection. 

He resolved, then and there, that if he got back - when he got back - he was going to do his best to change that. 

With an exaggerated groan, he teased, "Give an old man a break, you two. You're making me miss my lovers. All that youthful enthusiasm." He shivered.

He reached back and elbowed Marian where he could, which ended up being her thigh instead of her side. "I'd like to see that. I'm not sure who would win that fight." He shrugged, delicately, sipped his drink. "I'd wear it. My Hawke would be delighted." He pursed his lips. "Fenris probably too, after he got over the initial glowering."

\------

Anders gave a little start at the snarking from down the bar, the commentary about the shirts, asides about youthful enthusiasm, and at first he felt a deep swell of embarrassment. Then he caught a glimpse of Logan's face, and remembered how unsure he was about being open about his sexuality, and how much it might be costing him to be clearly affectionate to Anders in front of those two. 

Instead of stepping away he burst into laughter, shaking his head, and made a rude gesture. "Oh, piss right off, both of you." His free hand circled around Logan's waist and he leaned into his chest. If he'd been sitting the bigger man would've wound up with a lapful. As it was, Anders was doing an admirable job fitting under his chin.

\------

Logan gave the older Anders a dubious look at the mention of lovers, plural, still a little put off by the very idea. He tugged Anders closer to his chest with a 'hmph.' 

He was lifting his drink to his mouth when his Anders told them both off and curled into him, and Logan choked a little around his swallow. He set the cup aside quickly, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and chuckled. Then he wrapped his arm around Anders in return and hooked his thumb in one of Anders' front pockets. 

"You're adorable," he whispered, right at Anders' ear where the others couldn't hear him, his breath warm on Anders' neck.

\------

Hawke broke into laughter as the two young lovers ignored Anders' entreaties for mercy and snuggled harder together. She laughed harder at the rude gesture shot their way, and leaned onto Anders shoulder as she wheezed. 

"Well, I guess that's your answer, no break for you." She shook her head, swinging her legs down and hopping onto her feet. "So, I know you're both really invested in caboodling or whatever, but do you have any questions you should be asking? Do you know where to find food? Clean water? A better bed than the tavern flops upstairs?"

She circled in front of them, eyeballing the younger Anders up and down, then looking up at Logan, eyes calculating what they needed, whether they were safe, even as she smiled cheekily.

\------

Anders gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, but he grinned at the pair of them, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

"There's the matter of demons as well," he said, nodding, when Hawke stood up and started circling. "You haven't got a Justice to keep you from being possessed while you sleep, so it's back to square one, for you." He looked at his younger self. "And it sounds like the same for you - Logan? Hawke? Maker, I don't know what to call you." He folded his arms and reached up to tap his lip with one hand, complaining, "This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder."

\------

Logan's whisper against Anders' ear had made him shiver with pleasure, and murmur back, "Too much?" with just a tiny crease of worry between his brows. He didn't think so, but he didn't want to overwhelm him with his desire to not be more than a handspan away from him. 

He still had no intention of letting him go, but then Marian was talking about necessities and the other Anders mentioned demons, and if anything was going to interrupt his attentive snuggling against Logan it would be concerns about his safety. Because if there was something his sleepwalking episode had showed him, it was that he wasn't safe. 

He shifted and turned, leaning against the bar so that he could look at Marian, frowning a little at her measuring, assessing gaze. She was a little uncanny, and the exact electric blue of Logan's eyes in her face made him shift awkwardly. Those eyes were unrelentingly compelling. "Yes, I definitely need to learn how to avoid demonic possession, thanks."

\------

Logan shook his head for answer to his Anders' question, his chin and lips brushing against Anders' hair, the arm wrapped around him squeezing reassuringly. He focused on Marian again, and hummed, thinking over what they might need now that it seemed they might be stuck here for a while. 

"I think the answer to all of those questions is no. Well, I thought I saw a well in that garden we went through, so that's water, I suppose. But food, that we'll need. A change of clothes would be helpful." He glanced down at what he was wearing, wondering how many hours it had been on his body now. He was going to start to smell, if he didn't already, and Anders' clothes had been dunked in grimy pondwater and firedried and generally could use a cleaning. "And...a bigger bed might be nice." He smiled awkwardly, shooting a look at Anders.

"Also demons. Little bit of coaching on how to deal with this." He held up a hand and let lightning arc between his fingers. "That would be fantastic."

\------

Hawke sniffed at Anders question about names. She pointed at the pair and said tartly, "He can be Logan. I'm Hawke. Seniority, since I've got at least a decade on him." She gave his shirt an appraising look, plainly thinking about stealing it right off his back. 

Her eyes tracked on the changes to Anders posture as he shifted and agreed that they needed help. She hadn't decided yet which of the pair was more fragile, but plainly their weak spots were each other and it was obvious for anyone to see. Well, she wasn't going to use it against them, but somebody could. 

Logan had common sense at least, agreeing about physical necessities as well as the magey stuff. She nodded in approval. "Where's your books?" she asked lightly, pulling her own journal out and beginning to flip through it, looking for the maps that someone had scribbled down.

\------

Anders hummed and smirked over his drink at Marian. "Whatever you say, sweetheart." 

He watched with interest as Logan gave his Anders a baffled look at the mention of books, and then went back to observing Marian thoughtfully. She was a quick one, always watching, watching. It was interesting. She could snark back at him with the same voice and the same jokes as his Jicosa, but at the end of the day there were the extra years she had on him and her feelings for Varric and all that sharp-eyed attention, like she was waiting for everything to go to shit on her. Which...considering...it wasn't something he could blame her for, but it did make him rather sad. 

He really needed to give Varric a few pointed words on the matter.

\------

Anders wasn't sure whether or not he wanted everyone calling Logan 'Logan' which was a weird impulse to have. It had felt special, the world insisting he was Hawke, and Anders allowed to see Logan instead. He frowned and stuffed his hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt. "There was one in here earlier... Did it get left upstairs? I thought it was yours," he said to Logan with arched eyebrows. 

If there were supposed to be journals for everyone then Anders' was probably at the bottom of the pond he'd landed in. He huffed a short sigh. "I'm not swimming for it, it had better not be that important," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

\------

"I didn't see a book," Logan said, frowning. "But I was a little distracted when I picked everything up earlier. Maybe it's still up there." He looked to Marian. " _Is_ it important? I can go look for it."

He reached out and brushed his fingers against Anders' in a silent question at the slight edge to his frown.

\------

Hawke gave a little huff, and shook her head as she found the right page and turned it toward them. "These journals are magic. You can communicate with other people who have one, leave notes, maps, etc. This is a sketch someone did of Skyhold." She flipped a few additional pages to where Sera's drawings of barrels full of dicks were immortalized. "Obviously, some of our resident artists have too much time on their hands." 

She returned to the map page. "If you have one, you'll have this picture in it, that shows where Varric's got the rations station, where the general stores, mundane clothes, soap are, blankets things like that. Here--" she pointed to the wing near the garden, "--is where the nicer rooms are at. And here--" a different area underneath the guest wing, "--is the bathhouse." 

She glanced over her shoulder at Anders. "I'm guessing they don't need weapons yet?"

\------

Anders raised a brow and and gave the couple a considering look. "What are you, primal specialty, mostly?" he asked Logan. "Oh, you probably don't know. Well. If he's me," he nodded at the youngers Anders, "and he's a Hawke," he nodded at Logan, "they're probably pretty powerful. Might help to have a couple of staves, to aid their focus. Especially with that-" he looked back at them, "- cover your ears, kiddos - that bitch Meredith running around. I shudder to think what she might do to a couple of brand new mages if she gets her claws in them, whether or not she's got that sword of hers."

"In any event..." he stood, taking the journal from Hawke. "The weapons are here." He tapped the War Room. "We can go and fetch you a few staves just in case."

\------

Anders laced his fingers with Logan's, not ready to let him out of his sight just yet. Not after all his fear from earlier and all this talk about demons and magic books and... was that a drawing of a cock and balls with wings? He rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "This is... brilliant." He couldn't help but grin, a low huff of a laugh in his chest. It was so absurd, it had to be real. 

He took keen interest in the bathhouse, giving Logan a sidelong look. He hoped that meant big tiled pools they could splash around in together and not little wooden tubs you had to crouch in. They were too tall. That would be horrible. 

"Logan has done lightning, and um a rock armor thingie, which is in the primal tree isn't it, love?" He pursed his lips. "And I've got healing and elemental, it seems." It mirrored their in-game specs to an uncanny degree. He gave Anders a careful glance. "Is that... what you're best at?"

\------

Logan leaned into Anders when he took his hand, and squinted at the drawings, not sure whether he was amused or disturbed. He wrinkled his nose, and then felt Anders' eyes on him when talk of bathhouses came up. Logan nudged Anders' arm without looking back at him, trying to suppress a grin.

"Seems incredibly useful," he commented. 

He nodded at Anders. "Yeah, and in-game I can do some force tree stuff too, though I haven't tried that here yet. Was trying to pick up some healing, but my guy was generally better at destruction, so." He had to go and think it would be cooler to blow shit up, hadn't he? As for the healing - well, Fenris had complained enough about Anders' shoddy healing that Logan had claimed he was gonna start training up his healing to help the poor man out. Mostly he had this vague unformed idea about how learning some of the same specs might get him closer to Anders. Which he was most certainly not going to admit. 

He cleared his throat, and looked at the older Anders. "I'm okay with a knife," he said, quiet. "I'm guessing you lot have daggers and things here. If we've got some real templars here, and we're real mages, maybe that won't do much, but it would make me feel better, anyways."

\------

Hawke's eyes gleamed as Anders suggested they go to the war room to steal... well acquire weapons for the two disgustingly cute magelings. Because there would be knives there. And she was sadly lacking in anything more formidable in the weapon department than the whisky bottles she'd rooted out of the cupboard earlier. 

She rolled her eyes at how obvious they were about the bathhouse, giving the other Anders an amused glance. "Yeah, Meredith, that's a real pisser." She started pacing back and forth in front of the bar, fingers flexing. That was _exactly_ why she needed knives and _exactly_ why Varric hadn't been so keen on the idea of her getting involved. 

Her booted feet were silent as she paced five steps one direction, pivoted and then back. The next pass she did on her hands because she was suddenly incredibly antsy and if she had throwing knives she'd do that instead. 

"Fucking Meredith. She's just evil. If she was just crazy that would be fine. I'm crazy. But I don't try to hurt people that I'm _supposed_ to help. Fucking Templars." She seemed to have no idea she was muttering out loud.

\------

Anders rubbed at his forehead at the question from his younger self. "Well, yes and no. Yes, I'm mostly known as a spirit healer. My easiest combat spells are pretty much simple fire and lightning. But Justice gives me an advantage I didn't have before, and in any case I...have some talents in each of the four schools of magic. I'm a very dangerous apostate, don't you know." He smirked. "They just kept me around as long as they did before I escaped for my healing."

He gave Logan a considering look, and nodded. "We can get you that," he agreed. It wasn't like Anders could watch over the pair of them all the time, and he wasn't about to leave them defenseless when he hadn't killed Meredith yet. When. He snorted at himself. That was how he thought about it, wasn't it? He and Justice both were just itching to ignore Neria's orders and remove the threat she posed.

He wasn't expecting that kind of vehemence from Marian, though, especially not after she'd made it clear she didn't approve of what he had done at the Chantry. He pursed his lips, watching her pace. This being stuck in the Fade had really done a number on her, and he gritted his teeth against the swell of anger the thought of her, of any Hawke, being abandoned and left to fight demons alone, brought out. He closed the journal with a soft whump and moved to intercept her, taking her arm when she righted herself and started pacing upright again. 

"You're _not_ crazy, Hawke," he said fiercely. "You're not. She's a fucking templar, and a madwoman, and she was an ass long before the red lyrium drove her out of her mind. If I have to kill her again, I will, and be glad of it - watching her get turned into a statue last time was satisfying but not as satisfying as it could have been."

\------

"Are spirits going to start helping me too?" Anders leaned forward a little bit, looking eager, interested and not as frightened as he listened to the other him talk. But when Hawke started pacing and ranting he frowned, shifting slightly to keep an eye on her. 

That was unsettling, both her anger and the casual violence in her posture. She wasn't just pacing, she was stalking, and then walking on her hands like it was nothing? He glanced up at Logan and stepped closer until their hips brushed. 

When the other Anders intercepted her and spoke sternly about how she wasn't actually crazy, he fought his own crazy urge to laugh, because she did seem.. sort of... a bit.

\------

Logan's gaze on the other Hawke was more thoughtful, more concerned. He recognized the anger in her words, in her tone, that place deep inside it came from where you thought it might burn you and burn everything around you when you let it out. He felt similarly about the templars, and that was just from a fucking _game_. If it had been real all his life, if he'd been born with this magic inside him and told all his life he was bad, wrong, sinful, cursed? He could picture that anger inside him aimed at things that weren't himself, weren't his mother's casual homophobia and his culture's forced heteronormativity, his ex's cruelty. 

Yeah. It wasn't that weird. The walking on the hands thing was, though.

Still, he wrapped an arm around Anders tightly and wished again he could shield him from that part of himself.

\------

Hawke fetched up against Anders chest before she seemed to realize he was there, and real, and she blinked a little owlishly as she looked up at him. Her eyes focused though and she flushed as she realized what she'd been doing, tucking her chin as Anders lectured her. 

It wasn't terrible as far as lectures went, though she looked a little mulish when he said he wanted to kill Meredith, because _she_ wanted to kill Meredith. She rolled her shoulders, shaking off his hand and sighed. "Fine, she can be crazy. The craziest! That doesn't mean I'm playing with a full deck. Diamondback is a real joke right now, you know." She huffed at him and then ducked her head as she glanced over at Logan and his Anders. 

"Sorry, boys. I'm recently recovering from an extensive trauma involving complete isolation except for every demon in the universe, for like... somewhere between a month and three years. No one seems to know how long I was there." She waved a hand, her smile a little shaky. "I swear I'm getting a handle on the 'other people actually exist' part."

\------

Anders gave her a steady look and chucked her under the chin. "You're doing just fine, sweetheart," he said, voice going very soft. "These things take time. A lot of time. Trust me - I know a little something about isolation and darkness and nothing but demons and the voices in your head to keep you company. You're gonna be all right."

He took her hand just to squeeze it, conscious of the necessity of grounding her with touch. He'd let Fenris's arrival and tending to Cullen distract him, but now he wished he'd been around for her more. The way he'd wished Karl had been when they'd finally let him out of solitary, before he'd had the strength to run for the last time. 

To his younger self, slightly over his shoulder, he said, "I would imagine so, Anders. I've had a knack for drawing spirits and being aided by them since I was a boy."

\------

Anders sucked in a breath when Hawke turned with her explanation, at first sure she was joking. That had to be a joke, right? Like, how does that happen? But then the other Anders comforted her and she was clinging to his hand tightly and he realized she was being serious. "Jesus Christ," he whispered and his hand gripped Logan's hard. 

He flicked his gaze back to the other Anders and blinked, remembering his question, and then nodded. "Does that mean more.. um... demons come too?" He wet his lips, unsure how he felt about that. If spirits and demons were bothering him, and his dreams were already a terrible place to be, and his meds were back home sitting on his bedside table, then shit.

\------

"Well, shit." Logan bit his lip and it wasn't really enough to grip Anders' hand in return, with all this talk of demons and isolation and voices. He leaned over and brushed his lips over Anders' brow, drawing him close to his side.

\------

Hawke let herself be comforted by Anders words, even if she wasn't sure it was the same thing. She was supposed to die and it was pure stubbornness that had kept her from that. Anders had been tortured to break his spirit. She clung to his hand though, grateful for the touch, though she was a little worried that Justice would push her away again. He really hadn't liked her touching Anders before. 

She grimaced apologetically at how horrified the young men sounded. Well, that was the world they'd fallen into. Or adjacent to, really. Things sucked. It wasn't any big mystery. She let go of Anders hand long enough to pour herself another drink and knock it back with a wheeze and a cough. 

"I wish I was more help with this. All I know about demons is where to put the pointy thing when I'm stabbing them to death," she mused softly. "And the only spirits I've ever known well are Justice here, and the Inquisitor's friend, Cole."

\------

Anders watched Hawke disentangle herself and throw back another drink with a tiny frown. He got the feeling he'd done something stupid at some point, but he was having a hard time remembering what it was, exactly. He would have to ask her. Justice, meanwhile, roused with curiosity at the mention of another spirit. "Erm. Cole? Who's that?"

To the other Anders, he said, "At first, probably. It...varies. But for me, once I'd...well, made some friends who were spirits, they tended to aid me in more ways than one. That included keeping the demons at bay. Of course...there are always those demons who are exceptionally good at pretending to be spirits. It's a matter of learning how to tell the difference between a spirit who wants to help because it's in their nature and a demon who wants something from you, wants to take, usually." He paused. "Does that make sense? I don't think I've ever had to explain this to another spirit healer before. We're a relatively rare breed."

\------

As a pretty young man and a runaway, Anders had rather a lot of experience with _people_ who pretended to be kind so that they could take, and how to sort them out from people who were just kind and wanted to help. He nodded slowly at Anders' description of the problem, leaning further into Logan. If that were true, then good, he'd be safer, but Logan wasn't a spirit healer, and the idea that he was vulnerable to demons was more than scary. 

"And for mages who don't attract kindly spirits who want to knit you a sweater and give you a sandwich?" he asked with a slight smirk. Mostly a front, but he could do snark while being afraid. It was only because it was _Logan_ that he was showing this many nerves at all.

\------

"You mean I can't just point the stabby things at them and hope for the best?" Logan ran his thumb over Anders' knuckles and gave a lopsided grin. He was with Marian on this one, but he figured that probably wouldn't work, not with this new magic inside him. 

It was strange, though, how little any of this scared him. He thought that was probably mostly denial, but there was a part of him too, the part that had survived four years on his own with nothing more than a backpack and later his dog, the part that had dropped everything to go back to his family responsibilities and done what he had to to take care of his mom and his siblings in the years since his dad had died, that said he could handle it. It wasn't just something he said to Marian to cheer her up, he really did think of himself as capable of taking most of what the world had to throw at him.

...as long as it didn't involve his love life, apparently, but he was hoping he was going to change that. 

The thought of Anders dealing with demons _did_ scare him; his urge to guard and protect those he cared about had always been particularly strong.

\------

Hawke snorted at Logan's comment and gave an amiable shrug. Sure he could. It had always worked for her. She addressed Anders' question about Cole though. "Oh, right. Varric said he was a spirit of Compassion who learned how to be a real boy. Something about Templars and murder knives. I met him a few times. I think. He tended to follow you around for a while and mutter at you, and then you'd forget he'd ever been there. He wanted to talk about... mother, Carver, _you_." 

She shrugged, a little uncomfortable trying to remember Cole's words, and then raised her glass to her lips again, taking another drink. "He--" she pointed at Anders with her hand holding the glass, "--definitely would have knitted you a scarf and made you a sandwich."

\------

"Compassion," Justice's voice in Anders' mouth repeated, deep, thoughtful. He shook his head and returned to himself. "I've known a few spirits of Compassion. Interesting." Justice was definitely very interested in the whole 'learned how to be a real boy' comment, and Anders filed the thought away for later. Perhaps the Inquisitor would be more the one to ask.

He chuckled at Anders and Logan. "Well, you _can_. There's often some kind of stabby or stabby-in-purpose thing to be found in dreams, and so long as you're resisting the demons, it doesn't matter exactly _how_ you go about it." He looked between the two of them. "It's a matter of refusing whatever they offer you, mostly. They'll go for what you want most - your family back from the dead, your freedom, power, wealth, whatever - and tell you you can have it all if you just let them in. Sometimes the offers are more subtle than that, more couched in pretty language, but it all ultimately comes down to the same thing. Say no, and that's it, really."

"It's not...as difficult as the Chantry makes it. Or it wouldn't be, anyways, if the Chantry didn't drive mages to desperation. Give us a way to be happy, to live as we choose, free and unfettered and not threatened, and why would we choose demons?" He cleared his throat. "But I'm moralizing. Nobody wants to hear me do that anymore, not that they ever did."

\------

Anders was intently focused on the older mage while he spoke, golden-brown eyes gleaming in the dim lamplight of the tavern. His jaw was working by the end of it, and he said indignantly, "I want to hear!" He ran his hands through his hair and then frowned. "So all that shit from the game lore, locking mages up, torturing them, not because it's necessary but because it's about power, about control and privilege and fucking money that's all true?" 

There were certain flame threads on the game forums that were legendary for the granular systematic takedowns of the Chantry system, the abuse of mages, that he had written. They were trolled by dudebros and apologists and he'd never deanoned on the threads because he didn't want Hawke's guild implicated in all of it, but to hear that it was real, that it happened to people who were _real_? He was incensed.

\------

Logan listened carefully, first to the instructions on dealing with demons and then to the brief critique of the Chantry that Anders gave. He nodded along. The demons he thought he could handle. They sounded like a puzzle, albeit a puzzle with life and death stakes, but he'd always been good at solving puzzles. Listen for the coded messages in what these creatures in his dreams were going to tell him, and he was _pretty_ sure he could figure what was real and what wasn't. Probably.

He could feel himself getting pissed about all this all over again. Locking up mages like his character - like _himself_ , now - stealing children from their families and babies from their mage parents, denying them the chance for love, autonomy, basic human rights, all because they _might_ succumb to demons and were born with power? Oh, it rankled. And that wasn't counting the whole religious side of things, the one that said mages were born _sinners_ , were disowned by the Maker just for existing, and that - that - ooooh it just made his blood boil. Always had. 

He was distracted from his growing rage by his Anders' equally, if not more, incensed tone, and he startled, looking at his boyfriend with new eyes. Sure, he knew Anders was as pro-mage and anti-Chantry as anyone could possibly be, but hearing him bitch about it with such fervor in person took things to a whole different level. God, he loved him, loved the fire inside him, loved his inability to keep quiet about things that disturbed him even when they were simple issues of game lore that a lot of people would've just accepted and moved on. And it wasn't just a game anymore, if it ever had been 'just a game' to begin with, and Logan could have pushed his boyfriend back against the bar and kissed him for the passion in his voice, regardless of the audience. 

He settled for keeping his glowing blue eyes on Anders' face and growling, voice low, raspy with feeling, "Fucking Chantry bullshit."

\------

Well, this was awkward. Hawke wasn't sure if she should grab the magelings by the ears and shake some sense into them, or kick Anders in the butt to make him stop, and finally she just settled with a clap of her hands. "Okay, listen, boys. Before you go looking for Templars to lynch or chantries to blow up, from my perspective this fight is over." 

She made a wide sweep of her arm, encompassing the whole room. "The Inquisition and all its bountiful hospitality is here because the Circle of Magi _disbanded_ and the Templars tried to kill all the mages while wagging their dicks in the face of the Chantry, who as you might expect, hid under their beds like the old ladies that they are." She crossed her arms and huffed. "So instead of plotting new acts of iconoclasm, maybe talk instead about what comes next. Because, guess what, my adorable murderous baby ducks? The mages are free, and your people are still dying."

\------

That was...a surprise. Although perhaps it shouldn't have been. This was himself he was talking to. And a Hawke who was madly in love with him. Anders made a pleased noise deep in his throat at the two men's indignance and would have gladly launched into a longer discussion of the evils of the Chantry when Marian interrupted. 

Anders crossed his arms over his chest and huffed at her, the by-now old ache of how much he missed Jicosa flaring again as he was reminded of the differences between Marian and her. "Firstly," he held up one finger, "the point of my blowing up the Chantry in Kirkwall was so that I, and no one else, has to commit acts of iconoclasm again. Secondly," a second finger raised. "You're still several years ahead of me, Hawke, so where I stand the Circles still haven't disbanded and will, in all probability, need some help with that, if I can just convince Fenris mainly to go along with it. And thirdly apparently from what the Inquisitor says the Circles eventually get _restored_ again, and I am not sure I even care that they're supposedly somewhat more lenient because of whoever is the next Divine, that thought still makes me sick. So."

He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to get ahold of himself, push down the old familiar anger that wasn't merely his own at the injustice of it all. He sighed, deflating abruptly into guilt and sorrow again, shoulders slumping. He looked at the dirty tavern floor and mumbled, "I should be dead, not helping to plan this revolution. I was supposed to be the catalyst. I wasn't supposed to have to think that far ahead."

\------

Anders watched Marian a bit warily as she scolded, feeling a flush creep into his face. What was her investment anyway? She obviously wasn't a mage, and sure, maybe that was only the most recent thing to pop up on Anders' identity bingo card, but it didn't mean that he couldn't see the oppressive systems built around it. And she wanted to shut him down, like he didn't know anything, when he did. He knew exactly what it was like to be locked in a closet (literally) because he was different. 

There was a stubborn set to his jaw and maybe he would have started fighting back, but the other Anders spoke up and he fell silent, listening curiously, and looking vaguely appalled when he wound down to dejection. "Why wouldn't you want to help plan the revolution?" He sounded honestly confused, a little incensed.

\------

"Um," Logan said. "Hang on. Did you just say...blowing up the Chantry? What?" He was pretty sure that was what the older Anders had said, and Marian hadn't even looked the least bit surprised. Was he the only one to think that seemed a bit...extreme? 

But then. Game lore said it was Chantry dogma that wrote the mages off as less than human, and it was the Chantry that oversaw the Circles and ruled the templars who more or less enslaved the mages. And when you thought about it in those terms, in terms of glorified slavery - well. Maybe that kind of thing did take extreme measures to fight against. People wanted to think the abolishment of slavery and the Civil Rights movement had eradicated racism, but it hadn't. Marriage equality had only just become a thing, and people were already afraid with that made into law, everyone would just pretend homophobia was over. Those kinds of systematic prejudices didn't just disappear. Hadn't it always taken acts of bravery that went outside the law to fight those kinds of discrimination?

He looked at his Anders and nodded, thoughtful, waiting for the other one to answer.

\------

Hawke looked stricken twice as Anders rolled on. First, when he said the Circles had been reinstated. That... she hadn't known. And then when he claimed he should have died. She made a low noise in her throat and lurched forward to wrap her arms around him, tightly, over his arms, pinning them at his sides. 

"Damn it, Anders," she grumbled. "You're not disposable. Not even a little bit. I... I don't support the Chantry. I _don't_. I'm sorry. I didn't know that the new Divine put them back together again. I wouldn't have said what I did. I'm... I'm such an asshole." 

She meant it, every bit of that, and she really didn't want him to be angry at her. Other than Varric, she didn't have much, and even if this wasn't her Anders, it was close enough to make her feel normal. With the added bonus of him not judging her crazy. She squeezed harder.

\------

Anders let out a quiet grunt as Hawke latched onto him, both his eyebrows shooting up with surprise. "I-" he choked. It was unexpected and entirely unlooked for and he felt like sobbing, the steady increasing pressure of her wiry arms around him another reminder that he was _alive_ , that he was _allowed_ to go on breathing and planning the revolution, that he didn't have to throw his life away for his cause. He still didn't feel like he deserved it, and he didn't think that was ever going to change, but there were all these people here, a Varric who treated him almost the same as ever and a Hawke who still obviously cared about him even if it wasn't in the same way that his Hawke did, and his Fenris, slowly, gradually, opening himself up to the possibility of affection, giving Anders far more of it than he even knew he had to give. 

He dropped his cheek against the top of Marian's head and just breathed for a moment, trying not to sniffle. 

Logan and the younger Anders were still watching them, their questions unanswered, and when Anders could speak again in a halfway steady voice, he lifted his head and said, "Yes. The Chantry, in Kirkwall. They were going to wipe us all out anyways. The Divine was contemplating an Exalted March. Meredith was just waiting to enact the Rite of Annulment. So I struck at the seat of their power. I broke what was unbreakable. No one could pretend we weren't dying then." He looked down at Hawke. "But I'm not just Anders. We're Justice. I...killed a lot of people, innocents as well as our enemies, and we should have died for it. Their blood in the streets of Kirkwall screams out our name with every breath we still take. I've never thought I was disposable, Hawke, but the fact we live and breathe when they do not is as much an injustice as the kind we fight against."

"Of course I _want_ to help plan the revolution. And I suppose I will, now. It's a good a penance as any." He swallowed down the tears that made his eyes gleam gold and damp and wriggled out an arm from Marian's grasp to chuck her under the chin. "All my favorite people are assholes, sweetheart. Don't worry about it."

\------

"Well, you make kissy faces at Fenris, so you must like assholes." Hawke blinked and then turned scarlet. "Didn't mean it like that." She gave Anders one last squeeze and then let him go, surreptitiously wiping her own eyes on her shoulder as she turned around. 

She watched the other Hawke, the other Anders, the different ways they responded to Anders rhetoric. Interesting. Or weird. Unsettling maybe? For them to have feelings about a world they'd never lived in was odd enough, but they kept referring to _the game_ and strange scraps of historical or political knowledge, had opinions about Templars, and hadn't Logan even mentioned Cullen by name?

"Hold on. Before any more of this revolutionizing. Can we talk about how you two know anything about this? Magic isn't real for you, but you know about it. Explain." She probably didn't want to know this, actually. The idea that their world was a story to the pair of them was making her ears ring in a way that was uncomfortable. Were they all just stories then? 

More booze was the answer. She hopped back up onto the bar finished her second glass.

\------

Anders blinked at her, torn between amusement and offense. He thought offense might be the stronger emotion, because while Fenris was indisputably as much an asshole as Hawke and himself, he was also...so much more than that. He was fiercely loyal and impossibly tender at times and he laughed at Cosa and Anders' sarcastic asides without fail. 

But Hawke apologized and squeezed him affectionately and Anders shrugged the irritation away. "Or maybe I just like warriors, with all that delicious muscle tone and biceps bigger than my thighs," he quipped, raising both brows at Hawke as she moved away. 

He took a deep breath and looked back to Logan and the other Anders, curious about that point as well.

\------

"Doesn't really have to be a warrior for..." Anders coughed and shot a sidelong glance at Logan, cheeks coloring as he ducked his chin. "Ah, um, the game." 

He looked pained for a moment. How did you even explain a video game to someone that had never seen a film? Or even a photograph? Did they have theater? He chewed his lip. "It's like a theatrical performance, a play, but we - the players - get to play the parts instead of be in the audience." He looked at Logan with a quizzical expression. Was he making any sense? "And in the story of the play we fight monsters, save the day, look really stupid in our terrible nipple-exposing Tevinter mage robes." 

He smirked and shook his head. "Anyway, the story is set in Ferelden, during the... the fifth Blight, so we have heard some of this stuff, the history of your world there. But we also play with people you know. Fenris, Isabela, Varric... they're all our guildmates. We play together. They're real, actual people, but characters like Cullen, they're background characters, that follow a script. Nobody 'plays' them. They just exist." 

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know if that makes any sense to you at all, or if I should be expected to be burned as a witch presently."

\------

Logan was giving the older Anders a look of studied focus at his explanation, turning this revelation over in his brain. He suspected he could learn some things about his boyfriend by what that kind of - sacrifice? dedication? zeal? - said about a person. It was guilt and self-loathing all wrapped up with determination and a refusal to regret, and Logan found that tangle of emotions rather fascinating. Perhaps admirable? He would have to think about it.

And then Anders mumbled about muscle tone and biceps and he cleared his throat a touch awkwardly (and also delightedly, he was not above admitting) and grinned when his boyfriend glanced at him. He squeezed Anders' hand. 

"Varric would say...it's like, collaborative storytelling," Logan said, thoughtfully. "Like there's this world already in existence, the game - we didn't really create that - but we make our own characters, create their stories, and put them into that world. In our world Varric's as human as any of us, but in the game he's a fast-talking dwarf rogue, which I'm guessing is what your Varric probably is? So, yeah. Me, Anders, my brother Carver, Fenris, Isabela, Merrill...well sometimes Sebastian when he decides his gaming isn't some kind of affront to God because it means he's passionate about something other than religion." He coughed. "Yeah, we're all real people, with representative characters in the game. Everybody else, more or less, who you all seem to know as real people are just...background characters."

\------

Hawke listened silently, so still she could be a statue, except for her eyes, ticking back and forth between them. This was unsettling. The designation between people who were people and people were not was not comfortable. At all. 

"But Cullen is real," she said quietly. "I don't..." She ran fingers into her hair, elbow on her knee, and rested her head in her hand as Logan started talking about Varric as a _human_ who only pretended to be a fast-talking rogue and a dwarf. 

"And this is... this is fun?" Plainly neither of them had ever seen their brother smashed in half by an ogre, been nearly bitten in half by a high dragon, had to clean giant spider innards out of their hair. She rolled her eyes up just enough to look at Anders, her Anders, who apparently counted as a real person. It sounded like it was just their friends, the people Hawke called family in her heart, that were 'real'.

\------

It sounded like the stories he and Karl used to tell when they were still apprentices. Anders' head in Karl's lap, Karl's fingers in his hair, reading the adventure stories they could pilfer out of the tower's libraries and eventually, when they'd read all the best ones, telling their own in hushed voices. They had been filled with good mages and evil templars, those stories; the heroes were always free, and always defeated the bad guys, and were always happy. Telling each other those kinds of stories had been one more way to escape the imprisonment that was their life, and he didn't think these two had been imprisoned, not like that, but they certainly had reacted strongly to his talk of the injustices perpetrated against mages. So maybe wanting to escape by any means possible was something they understood too. 

Anders looked at Marian, and shrugged. "We are the stuff of legend, sweetheart - even you can't deny that, o Champion. Maybe it's a lot more ugly when you live it, but when it's just a story - well, Varric has always said it's a damn good one. Of course, he edits willy-nilly, so you'll have to take that with a grain of salt."

\------

"Do you have a copy? Can we read it?" Anders glanced at Logan, smirking. "Well, I want to read it anyway. I want to know about the Hawke of legend." He looked back at Anders and Marian and bit his lip. 

"Sorry." He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It was a lot to take in, as strange for him as it was for them, and he was tired and hungry and itchy and after having finished nearly a glass of rum or brandy or whatever the liquor was, also a little tipsy. "That isn't helping, probably." He yawned and then ran his free hand through his hair. "Do you know, either of you, if it's possible for us to go home?"

\------

Logan threaded his arm around Anders' waist again and drew him close. 

"Sure," he told Marian. "It's...something that's not mundane, like your monthly struggle to have enough money to pay all your bills on time. Something to forget when you got nothing much beyond working and eating and sleeping and trying to just...keep on existing, I guess." He glanced at Anders and frowned. "God, that sounded pathetic, didn't it? Um. Hold that thought, Anders," this to the older one before he refocused on his boyfriend. "Love, you should really tell me your phone number and your address before they answer that question, because I..."

His voice died, and he swallowed before he whispered, "I would really like not to go back to that."

\------

"You are absolutely not allowed to read anything Varric has written about me!" Hawke huffed and shook her head, eyeing Anders with comically narrow-eyed suspicion. But the tenor of his and Logan's conversation changed and she hmmed and looked over at the older Anders. "We should let them rest I think. This is a lot. Show them the bathhouse, get them a bed that isn't full of straw, and see about the weapons in the morning." 

For herself she was starting to feel like she'd like to finish drinking herself to sleep, and ignore the aching strain in all the muscles she'd overtaxed creeping and climbing.

\------

Anders hummed, most of his attention fixed on Logan when he spoke. He had the damnedest bright blue eyes, keen and certain and _wanting_ on the younger Anders' face, and it was hard not to think of another pair of blue eyes equally afraid of being left alone, those ones less vivid and more verdant, blue and green mixing together like they said the seawater did in warmer countries he'd never seen. _Don't leave_ , Hawke had begged, and Anders had known it was about Leandra, but it had been about more than that, too, about Malcolm gone and Carver gone and Bethany in the Circle, even Fenris - then - gone from her. It had been about loneliness, and the inability to face it, and Anders had known the look in those seagreen eyes because it was the same look he'd worn every day for years after they'd taken Karl away from him. And where it had been only about not being alone, either of them, for so long, it had become so much more, and he hadn't even realized it, hadn't even been able to accept it until the very last, and he - Maker's balls, but he missed his Hawke.

"Hm?" He looked at Marian, startled a little out of his thoughts. "Mm, yes, of course. Better bed for them. More tomorrow." He nodded. 

He should go to Fenris, in the meantime, and try not to think about how a part of them was missing without Jicosa, even if Fenris didn't know it yet.

\------

"Logan." Anders voice was a soft murmur as he listened to him talk about a life of going through the motions. He had a busy life, full of _things_ , full of causes and classes and movement, but it lacked meaning. A reason. But he'd found it. In Logan he'd find a reason. "Of course, love. Can you memorize it?" 

Without their journals he had no paper, no pen. He ran his fingers into his hair, a sudden panicky fear that this _moment_ he'd be sent home and there would be no way for Logan to find him, forgetting they were in the same town, that Varric had their information and Logan Hawke was a name that he could bloody well google.

\------

"Can I-" Logan huffed quietly. "Yeah, love. Yeah. Do you know how long I've- I'm pretty sure you'd have to lobotomize me in order for me to forget." 

He took the hand Anders was running anxiously thorough his hair and squeezed it gently, mindful at least vaguely that they had an audience even if mainly he just wanted to gather Anders up in his arms and tell the world and whatever powers had dragged them here to go suck it, because he wasn't ever letting Anders go. 

It was an extremely immature impulse and he kind of thought it was fantastic.

\------

"Okay, we're being ignored." Hawke rolled her eyes and swung down off the bar, easy and steady despite how her muscles complained and her head swam. "Memorize numbers, get your shit, it's pretty obvious you two need more alone time." 

She gathered up the bottles she'd ferreted out and offered Anders one. If he had Fenris holed up somewhere, they'd probably want it. She caught him looking pensive and far away, and she smiled a little sadly, not for him, for herself. Ugh. She needed to get her own shit together.

\------

"Please, two old fogeys like us? I am hardly surprised," Anders shot back, grinning faintly. "To have a Hawke looking at me like that, and at that age? I would have been ignoring us too." 

He took the bottle from Marian with a nod of thanks, humming thoughtfully, and then flapped his free hand indulgently at the lovers. "You two carry on. I'll just..." he stepped sideways around them, to where he'd placed the basket of food he'd been carrying on the bar, and nestled the bottle inside it. Next to the basket, his black coat lay abandoned, and he frowned at it dully, dropping his hand onto it after a pause, and running his fingers over the feathers. 

"Do pardon the smell," he said, abruptly, balling the coat up in one hand, turning on his heel, and marching back to the large fireplace in the center of the room. He tossed it onto the hearth with a quiet whump, the un-swept ash from the last fire billowing out in a small white cloud. Before he could think better of it, he flicked his wrist and tossed a fireball in, setting the whole thing ablaze. 

He wouldn't leave the revolutionary behind - never that - but he wanted, for Hawke, for Fenris, even on some level, for himself, to leave the man who would have been a martyr behind. "Fenris did say black was a terrible color for me, anyways," he said, mostly to himself, watching the flames.

\------

Anders leaned forward to whisper his phone number directly into Logan's ear. Not that it made a difference if the others heard, it wouldn't mean anything, but it just seemed... personal and real, something from their real lives that made this more real. And if his lips were brushing the shell of Logan's ear while he repeated the sequence of numbers? Maybe it would be easier to remember. 

He snorted softly and turned his head when Hawke and the other Anders groused about being ignored and then startled slightly when the black coat he'd recently been wearing was cremated. "Shit," he muttered. "I didn't think my cooties were that bad." He smirked slightly, but was watching Anders a little worriedly.

\------

Logan shivered slightly at the brush of Anders' lips against his ear, nodding. He closed his eyes briefly to commit the number to memory. When he opened them again, Anders was turning his head to look away, and Logan leaned forward quickly and pressed his lips to the corner of Anders' mouth. He shifted so he could whisper the same in Anders' ear, lips brushing Anders' cheek lightly as he moved.

Then he sat back to watch the older Anders with a small crease between his brows. "I don't think it was you, love," he murmured.

\------

Hawke watched Anders burn the coat with a tiny, hopeful smile. Until she caught a whiff of the smoke and then wrinkled her nose with a cough. "Maker's ass, burning feathers never smell good." 

She cocked her head at Logan and the younger Anders and shook her head, rolling her eyes at how ridiculously in love they appeared. It was easier to pretend she was unaffected by it. She wondered if she looked that stupid when she thought about Varric, and hoped, deeply, that she kept it out of her gaze. She shook her head sharply at the thought intruded that she was both obvious and ridiculous for all that these were feelings that he didn't want from her. 

She rubbed at her forehead and then gestured toward the stairs. "Let's get along then, hmm?"

\------

"I did warn you," Anders said, pulling an impish grin at Marian. He went back and gathered up his basket again, giving the other two a peering sort of glance. "Are we ready, then?"

He tilted his head and finally registered the younger Anders' earlier comment. "Assuming I get back to where I'm from, it's probably best if I don't go around wearing the coat I intended to die in." He cleared his throat, frowned a bit at himself, like he hadn't quite meant to say that. "I mean, the coat I specifically designed as a statement of my dark and revolutionary designs." He shrugged, his cheeks coloring faintly.

\------

Anders had gone very still, breath hitching as Logan whispered into his skin. He nodded and started murmuring the number under his breath until he caught Anders' statement about he coat. 

He turned pale. It felt weird to have worn the coat that an older version of himself had intended to _die in_. Leaving aside the blowing up of buildings and being in love with _Fenris_ , that was pretty fucked up. 

"Yeah, let's just... I'll run up and see if the journal is upstairs." He squeezed Logan's arm and then turned to take the stairs quickly, two at a time with his long legs.

\------

Logan's lips curved at the hitch in Anders' breath. And then the older Anders had to go and say that and Logan could feel his boyfriend stiffen before Anders was squeezing his arm and then disappearing.

He straightened off the bar and watched Anders go, feeling like he should follow him, and then thinking with Anders already halfway up the stairs it was probably pointless. Also. Away from these two there might be kissing and that wouldn't help them get a move on, at all. 

Logan settled for giving the other Anders a small frown. Hearing an Anders, even if it wasn't his Anders, profess to an intention of dying, of letting himself be killed, perhaps even arguably of seeking it - it made him feel tense and angry and _afraid_. He didn't like it. He also didn't like the way Anders had paled before he disappeared up the stairs. He huffed. "I'm assuming your Hawke gave you the requisite 'throwing your life away is bad' talk, perhaps even more intense than the one Marian just did, and soundly beat you over the head? Because I'll need to have a talk with this _other_ other me, if not."

\------

"Hmph." Hawke gave Anders a look after the younger one and Logan both seemed to take his words as spooky and personal. They were spooky and personal, but not personal for _them_. 

"Yep, you were definitely designing your revolution's aesthetic. Complete with feathers and gold piping." Hawke snorted softly and watched the young Anders disappear up the stairs. 

When Logan spoke she gave him a toothy grin. "I like this one. If you want to give him--" she nodded toward Anders "--a kick in the ass, I will definitely clap your efforts." She kind of wanted to ruffle his hair in an odd show of near-sisterly pride. 

Shortly though, the younger Anders was already coming back down the stairs, his vest and a leather-bound journal clutched against his chest.

\------

Anders held out his arms in front of himself and inspected his tunic, which was rather Tevinter in style, honestly, with its streamlined cut and gold thread on black cloth. He was fairly certain he ought to dig around and find something else to wear as well, though he wasn't about to strip it off right here. There was probably some clothing in the wardrobe of the room he was sharing with Fenris. It had felt somewhat like a betrayal of Fenris's trust, blowing up Chantries and freeing mages while dressed like this, like he'd been proving the blighted elf right all along. Still, he'd had a point to make. At least he'd thrown out that old Tevinter chantry amulet Hawke had given him before Fenris had finally moved in with them. _That_ would not have gone over well. 

He looked back to Marian. "Feathers are an important part of the wild mage aesthetic, I will have you know. You're just lucky I abandoned the skirts as impractical in battle before I ever came to Kirkwall. Rather more practical for other things though, weren't they." He sighed dreamily, then cocked an eyebrow at Logan. 

"You're very sweet, sweetheart," he said, voice caught between flirty and simply surprised and warmed. "You may knock me over the head anytime."

\------

When he reached the top of the stairs Anders took a moment to breathe through his panic at how close to home the other Anders' willingness to martyr himself for his cause struck him. He looked at his own too-thin wrists and then shook his head sharply before walking toward the room he and Logan had claimed earlier. 

Inside he found the journal that had been in Logan's sweatshirt pouch, and his own vest. He collected both and trotted back down the stairs to hear the other Anders using that _flirty_ voice on Logan. 

He missed a step and stopped about three risers from the inn floor, eyes flicking back and forth between them. It wasn't _jealousy_. It was just... if Logan could choose, then what did he have over an accomplished mage, with more experience, and a cause worth dying for?

\------

Logan ducked his head slightly and shot Marian a small grin, and then was brought up short by the older Anders' response. He peered at him, trying to determine if what he heard in his voice was flirting, or if it was simply...surprise that so many Hawkes felt strongly enough about him trying to off himself that they would make a big deal about it. And if it was that last one, what did that say about Anders? What did that say about _his_ Anders?

Logan was definitely going to be making sure his was more than simply nagged to eat and sleep by a voice over a headset from here on out.

"Um," he finally said. "It really sounds like you've got more than enough people to do that for you." He shrugged, modestly, chewed on his lip and tried to decide how to politely disentangle himself from the fact that his urge to take care of everyone had made it apparently sound like he was _flirting_ with a different version of his boyfriend. Which he wasn't. He was in love with Anders, the med student, not Anders, the rebel mage, who had been up till now just a character the other one played. Especially not one who could also be in love with Fenris. He gave the older Anders a tentative smile, hoping that would suffice as a conversation stopper, and looked up with an expression of obvious relief when he noticed his Anders on the stairs.

\------

Hawke was about twelve seconds and three bashful glances from grabbing mages by the ears and dragging them out into the air. She rolled her eyes as Logan shot that worried, unsure smile at the older Anders. 

She looked over at the younger, coming down the stairs and skipped up toward him and grabbed his arm. "Come on, dove." He gave her a startled look as she dragged him down the last three steps and propelled him toward Logan. 

She was willing to lead the way to the guest quarters. Leading was kind of her thing. Though usually it lead to a dragon's den, or a demon's den, or a slaver's.... den. What the bloody void was it with her and dens anyway?

\------

Anders was convinced this Logan Hawke was definitely the most adorable version of Hawke he'd seen so far, bold and warm and kind one moment, tentative and embarrassed the next. Andraste's underthings, he was a baby. An adorable, extremely large, overgrown baby of a Hawke. It was intensely peculiar finding a Hawke who was so easy to read, so open about his emotions, and it actually made Anders feel a little bad for flustering him. He wasn't used to being met with awkward smiles instead of a laugh and a quip back.

He laughed a little at Marian's obvious impatience and settled comfortably into following her, as he had done so many times with Jicosa. "So it would appear," he agreed with Logan, sucking in one side of his mouth and shooting him an apologetic sort of glance.

\------

Anders blinked at Marian as she skipped up to him, and then squawked as she grabbed his arm and dragged him down the stairs. Before he could get his feet under himself she gave him a shove in the back and he staggered forward until he fetched up against Logan with a flush in his cheeks. "Sorry. That wasn't my fault." 

He shot Marian a sour look, but fell into step to follow her once she was leading the train out of the tavern. Finding a bed and a bath and maybe some food didn't sound terrible, that was for sure.

\------

Logan caught Anders with his arms around him easily, not really budged at all. He touched one big palm to the back of Anders' head and hummed. "I'm not complaining, love." He drifted his hands down to Anders' waist and then set him back on his feet proper, reaching hopefully for his hand again once he'd let go. 

He wrinkled his nose at the older Anders as they moved after Marian, and then gave a soft half-laugh at the sorry expression on his face. What was it he'd thought earlier? It was a face impossible to scowl at, that much was certain. 

Following someone else for once...it was a bit disorienting but also kind of wonderful. Logan let himself wonder what it would be like to have been, as himself, in all of these battles that Marian and the other Anders had lived through. What must it feel like to grip smooth wood under his hand and channel all the destructive magic he could feel within him now into something so primal, so life and death, as fighting? It wasn't anything remotely close to the game, and while part of him wanted to find out what that would feel like, the rest just...wanted to go home and bring Anders with him where things were maybe not easier or simpler, but known. 

He would settle for pretty much anything or anywhere as long as Anders was with him, though.

\------

Well, at least they were following finally. Hawke made an effort not to lose them -- that wasn't leaderly behavior. For her personal preference, as a rogue, maybe, but given that she was being capital-H-Hawke, she'd let them keep up.

The stairs to the bathhouse she stopped with a knowing glance, and gestured towards it with a wide arm. Then at the hallway to the kitchen she'd emphasized the importance of the ration schedule (while hiding her salvaged booze behind her hip).

When they finally reached the guest wing she gave a little bow and a salute. "Go on then. If the door's unlocked, it's probably up for grabs. And if it turns out someone was already staying there? They probably deserve whatever stains you leave them."

\------

Anders was mostly silent as Hawke gesticulated and explained, although he did give her something of a knowing glance outside the kitchen. In the guest hall, he motioned to the very last door at the end.

"That one's mine. And, ah, Fenris's. So you know where to find me if you need anything." He looked to Hawke. "Weapons and things in the 'morning'?"

\------

Anders kept Logan's hand tight in his grasp as they followed Marian, the vest and journal tucked into the front-pocket of the hoodie that belonged to Logan.

When they finally reached the guestwing he gave a grateful nod and an unvoiced sigh. Finally. He appreciated what Marian and Anders were doing for them, sure, but... He gave Logan a sidelong glance and then tugged him along the hall, looking for a room that was unlocked and also plainly uninhabited.

\------

Logan focused on Anders' hand tight in his as they walked, the occasional brush of their arms together or their hands against his thigh, though he tried - and mostly succeeded - to listen to what Marian was saying about directions and food and bathing and all that. And then they were in the guesthall and Anders was tugging him along, and Logan turned to look back over his shoulder at Marian and the older Anders, still standing there. It hit him again how surreal this all was, thankfully not that he had Anders at all - that part, while odd, seemed _right_ \- but the fact that he was wandering around in a castle while an older version of his boyfriend and an older female version of himself watched. 

Still, he mouthed a thank-you at Marian, for all her explanations and helping him find Anders again earlier and all the rest, before he turned away. He squeezed Anders' hand and then let out a quiet 'oooh' when the next door Anders tried was unlocked, and led to a kind of fantastic looking bedroom - suite? - with an old-school four-poster that was definitely big enough for the both of them.

\------

Hawke gave Anders a little nod and salute, which she replicated for Logan, her lips twitching at how eagerly he was getting tugged through the door. 

Oh to be young and beautiful and stupid and in love. 

She gave Anders an amused eyeroll and a shooing motion toward his own room, and then walked on silent feet off toward the hallway that would take her to Varric's room, separate from the guest rooms. 

One of these days she was going to have to stop imposing on him, but the thought made her cold, straight down to her core, so apparently today was not that day.


End file.
